365- Another You- Hans and Nora

More bits from Another You

136. Another You

       

          At times, I watched the snow fall. I imagined myself standing there, snow twirling around in my hospital gown. The cool touch of a snowflake on my tongue. The way I would laugh when the wind blew a flurry of white Angels onto my face. I would dance along the lawn, my pale feet making deep imprints in the soft white floor. I would sing a song of winter’s joys.

      But I can’t do this

      I can’t even move a finger


      Nora June 45,  Another You pg. 54. 

137. Hans Sweet Mystery

   

          I pride myself in my ability to step into another’s shoes. The ability to know what one is thinking before it is even thought. There isn’t a look passed between hidden lovers that I do not notice, a hand dealt for which I cannot call the bluff.  But you, you my dear are a mystery. You are no more known to me than the number of stars in the darkest night sky, your feelings as masked and faded as the moon herself. Who you are and who you pretend to be inhabit my every thought.

I want to know you

My sweet, sweet mystery

Hans 25, Another You pg 30

       

365- Another You

\Like most things I do, I will probably regret this project month from now, or sooner... But for now I am just going to go ahead with it. I'm calling it Another You, they are excerpts from a "book" the rest is self explanatory I guess. For those of you who find the writing a bore, Iv'e added photos so cheer up! See I'm looking out for you, so wipe that sneer off your otherwise pretty face.

What if there is another you out there…Someone who goes through the pains and joys of life, just like you. What if there is a whole world of you. What if we are all more similar then we had originally thought. What if we could feel comforted knowing that we can understand each other? That our stories, though all unique and sometimes strange, are all similar?

We are similar.

You aren’t so alone after all.

January Meredith Attkins, Another You pg. 1

135. Sliced Heart Strings

It’s like my heart was a tightly wound toy, every jerk of these cords sliced what bit of it I had left, sending it slipping through the cracks. The pace kept quickening, the fabric of my soul stretching like rubber. I was something mechanical. Gasping for air, trapped in this globe I was being smothered. Every cool flake felt like another mistake on my robotic forehead.

I was tick, tick, ticking away.

Artificial snow, slowly rusting me into oblivion.

Winter Moors, 35, Another You pg. 68