When I Look Out the Window
When I Look Out the Window window stories
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milkfish
milkfish Entropy, Decay, Eventual Death
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
When you look out the window, what do you see? Do you ever see yourself?

When I Look Out the Window

When I look out the window, in the morning, I can see the sun peeking behind the beautiful house of a lovely couple across the street.

I can see the bright azaleas and rhododendrons on their lawn. I can see family cars rolling by and the familiar rusty school bus that once picked me up and dropped me by five days a week.

I can hear the kids giggling and bidding their mothers goodbye.

I can hear the birds and wondered if they already caught worms for their breakfast and if they would like to drink coffee with me.

I can see the trees with their golden leaves that will be soon be blown by the wind.

I can hear myself taking a deep breath as I stared out the window, asking myself, 'aren't they enough reasons for me to live on?'

But I felt nothing.

When I look out the window, in the afternoon, I can see the clouds looking back at me.

Do you think they can see the pain in my eyes? And if they can, would they cry for me?

I can see the sky and it is in the prettiest shade of blue.

I can see people passing by, some on their bikes, some with their dogs, some with umbrella on their hands.

They would stop for a moment, maybe to catch their breath or just to look around, it's a beautiful day after all.

I can hear the wind chimes on my front porch making music as the salty air caressed them.

It was soothing like the afternoon tea that I was sipping but it was still not enough to calm the storm inside me.

I can hear laughter and I saw the couple across the street holding hands, lost in a world that only them could see.

When they noticed me looking at them, they waved at me and smiled so bright that I asked myself, 'aren't these enough reasons for me to live on?'

I smiled back at them but unlike theirs, my smile never reached my eyes.

When I look out the window, in the evening, I can see the amber lights of the street lamps. I can see the faint light from the window of the house across the street.

I can see the stars but I couldn't see the moon in the same way I couldn't see enough reasons for me to live on.

I know there were enough reasons. I know they were there and I could see them every time I look out the window. But why do I feel they weren't enough?

I know nothing good comes easy. But does it have to be this hard?

So this time, instead of holding a glass of milk to put me to sleep, I was holding a knife.

I took a deep breath and stared at the night sky as blood gushed out of my wrist, streamed down my arms and dripped down from my elbow to the floor of my bedroom.

As my vision turned hazy, I see and hear them again. The azaleas and rhododendrons. The school bus. The trees and clouds. The laughter. The birds and the sky. The wind chimes.

But the last the image I saw was myself looking at the window.

I was smiling.

A real smile like back when I was just a kid and my world just revolves around the playground.

Then I realized that maybe all the reasons I saw were not enough because I always see myself that I wasn't enough for all those reasons to be enough.

So, I took a shaky breath and crawled for my life. I cried and shouted and I begged for help wishing for the couple across the street would hear me.

Because I finally found enough reason to live on.

Me.

I am enough reason to live on. I always was.

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