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Quick Sand

Iliana Vasquez

Today she felt desperate, crazy and out of her mind. She tried so hard to make him understand, however, the more she tried the more insane she became. Was she talking to herself? Was there an invisible wall between them? The sounds of her words resound and bounce back without piercing through the air. It made her feel without breath, without Soul and hopeless. How and when was she going to escape the voices that kept telling her she was crazy. That she was creating a problem where none existed. When was she going to realize that the Hell she dwelled in, was created by her imagination. The air was getting thicker as she tried to make sense of it all. But she felt it, she dreams it, she yearns it. If she could shut off the switch of her heart, she could continue to live without feelings. Without wanting someone or something to put that smile on her face. If she could deny herself the satisfaction of someone else’s smile upon her appearance, she could finally be free of the lonely she caressed. Why couldn’t she live without the fantasy yearning? Looking out for something in the distance while what was presence was dead in front of her. Maybe it was her perception of what was happening that deceived her? She ran fast, hoping she would not be caught up by her truth that tortured her. She wanted to turn around and say, Am here, catch me, I give up. But instead she ran faster the other way. The road turned into quick sand beneath her feet, her hands grasped on the mush around her
and it
gives in,
her nose
lingers there.

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