Out of the Lightning

She stuffed her belongings into the pink overnight bag, when was the last time she had boughten anything pink, tears streamed down her face and she sniffed. 

Breathing quietly she stepped out of her room and walked down the creaky stairs.  She step out the front door like a ghost into the fog where no one notices the contrast of white on white. 

She breathed out, wiped her eyes and watched the images her breath made in the cold. She took the first step. Then another. This was good. 

She plastered the fake smile onto her face and pulled out her phone. Good, her friends were waiting around the corner.

Who cares about the crumbling difference between wrong and right? She walks along the edge of where the ocean meets the land just like she's walking on a wire in a circus. It was dangerous, but thats what she needed. She needed the danger without it, what would be left? 

She stood up straight and opened the car door. She was greeted with the squeals of her friends, 

"Mariaaaaa!!"

She laughed not a real laugh those were rare.

"Haii! Where are we going?"

"We're going to go cause ruckus!"

Good, a distraction. 

They pulled up in front of the house she had never seen before, no doubt this is where she'd be sleeping tonight. 

They all got out of the car.

Walked up to the door and a boy answered,  he's drunk, or high, or both.

He wasn't  particularly anything special but, she knew why they were there, he had connections, which means they did now too. 

It was making her laugh, making her not think about bad things,  or have trouble acting normal when she's nervous. 

It'a only temporary, a few hours at the most. 

She's more then just a little misunderstood,  maybe everyone is? This is normal. 

Everyone goes through this.

They're all smiling. 

She says it's only in my head, she says shhh, it's only in my head.

Then she looks up at the building and says, "I'm thinking of jumping."

Her friends laugh and she laughs too. 

At this point its all a joke. 

She's tired of life, she musty be tired of something. 

"Catch me if I'm falling", she says.

All of her friends tell her that they'll be there for her. 

They'll always be there, just like she's always there. 

She doesn't want to be there. She wants to be somewhere where the walls aren't crumbling. 

The bright orange sun peaks out over the trees.

Round here we stay up very, very, very, very late. 

But even with the bright sun,

now staring her in the face,

she can't see nothin', nothin' round here.