the hannah tea. (phoenixdragon) wrote,
the hannah tea.
phoenixdragon

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headspace #13.

it's rough against my cheek. but i'm still too unstable to walk, so like as not i'm gonna lay here till i'm not so weak. looks like it's raining. hundreds of droplets exploding upwards, as if from beneath the cement in a desperate attempt to meet the sky. only to sigh and resign and reassign themselves into determined little rivulets...going somewhere fast, going places, slipping into the cracks and alloted sewage spaces.

still.

maybe it's a fevered train of thought, but i seem to recall a skydive. some sort of freefalling occured on my behalf, before i woke up here, that is. but, really, it can't have been so high from where i fell. nothing broken, everything seems to be intact. i can still feel the strange pulse of energy centered in my upper back. i remember...something that exists here, but not when i leave.

quiet.

shouldn't there be noise? i understand that time doesn't work the same as on the outside, so maybe i'm wrong but it feels like the middle of the night. but then, easy to get disoriented when the sun doesn't always shine, and half the time the light is not sol but mine. and where did this buzzing, unblinking streetlamp come from? i would have to say. this is the first time i've been a city. interesting.

empty.

that's strange. all the usual sounds of city, but nowhere any people to be making them. it's not raining anymore. just wet. furthermore, this isn't any city i've been to before. it's time to leave, though. if i continue to lay here, it might turn permanent. that's the nature of here. rules of the outside world don't always apply. it would be possible, here, to sink into the sidewalk and die. sit up, hannah. walk towards the end of the street. the glare. where you wake up and go back. you need to go back.

love,
hannah
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