not_a_mamasgirl:

"How unhappy is he who cannot forgive himself." - Pubilius Syrus


Simple, pretty moments flit around.

It's a lovely day almost every day, and the air around them all carries the singing of voices.

Simple.

Simplicity.

It's all so relaxed and fine.

Sitting by a window is a girl who has no need to be sitting by a window.

She can fly, like the birds and the clouds and the thoughts that everyone carries and fears releasing.

She sits, and she remains.

Those who pass her smile. She's a lovely thing, and isn't the thing loveliest which cannot be reached?

She's entirely unreachable, and as much as it pains her, she accepts it wholly.

There's nothing wrong with accepting one's lot, particularly when it's so so earned.

The girl, the woman, smiles and sings along with the rest of the world.

Her smile is brighter, her flirty wit lower and sweeter. There's nothing that appears to be anything less than what it is, and it's as it should be.

There are those who love her, many who wish to, and she has smiles for them all.

A million different smiles for a million different needs, and all are welcome to a piece of her soul.

It's what she cannot give that she wishes to offer most, and in turn...there is the smile she carries most. It's false and it's broken, and it's the prettiest of them all.

"It's a punishment," she whispers in the lonely moments, and she believes.

The pretty girl smiles, and it lights up the world and everyone who stands in her path.

Perhaps, if she smiles enough, she'll forget why she hides. Perhaps, all trapped within her will feel the warmth and falsity of that smile and allow her a moment to forget.

It's doubtful.

If everyone faded away and she was left alone and shattered into a place of welcome, she would leave herself wanting still.

"It's a punishment," she says with a smile.

[This is taken directly from another journal I keep on LJ.]