Surfaces

It's not that being alone is a problem for her, though sometimes she fears it more than she fears death itself, it's that recently she is alone all the time, like the walls have been drawn upon by her own solitude. Though there is beauty in her drawings, they are dark, as if blackness were not bleak, her drawings reap of the memories of the people she once knew. Their glaring eyes upon her, she sees their gazes as judgment of her fault. Faulty in every way, her failures stack upon each other like dirty dishes. Those looks are her own souls gaze at itself, they speak volumes of regret and disappointment. Sadly failure was never an option and now that it's a reality, she has dislodged from living to live in peace.