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(no subject)
Jun. 28th, 2009 05:00 pm[unedited]
Sometimes I laugh out loud. I let the sound resonate and echo and cacophonate against the walls and floors and buildings. If I'm alone I can hear it stretch out and warp and twist in the wind, scraping on edges until it hits resistance and meekly, forcedly returning to me in a sheepish, almost inaudible whisper. If I'm in public people stare or smile. Feeling they have witnessed some enjoyable moment in my life, and encountering a jealousy with it, or enjoying it, and being glad for my gladness.
I am never glad. I laugh to expel the air from my chest, because a sigh is often not enough. It removes the weight from my chest and I feel, for seconds at a time, lighter. I open my eyes to enjoy it, but when I do my laugh has returned, torn and scared by it's adventures into the open, unwilling to provide the full release it is meant to.
Sometimes I laugh out loud. I let the sound resonate and echo and cacophonate against the walls and floors and buildings. If I'm alone I can hear it stretch out and warp and twist in the wind, scraping on edges until it hits resistance and meekly, forcedly returning to me in a sheepish, almost inaudible whisper. If I'm in public people stare or smile. Feeling they have witnessed some enjoyable moment in my life, and encountering a jealousy with it, or enjoying it, and being glad for my gladness.
I am never glad. I laugh to expel the air from my chest, because a sigh is often not enough. It removes the weight from my chest and I feel, for seconds at a time, lighter. I open my eyes to enjoy it, but when I do my laugh has returned, torn and scared by it's adventures into the open, unwilling to provide the full release it is meant to.