I used to sit and fix my gaze upwards… and I would wonder who I was meant to be.
My sky was meant to be painted in the raw spectrum of the rainbow, where every color jumped in vibrant exclamations of wanting to be great. Every hue in my sky was meant to be lurid and glaring, flaming in its brilliance, thriving in the pulse of its unlovely but spectacular color.
But instead, the sky is pale and pretty, painted from a pallet of clear, fresh tints and sketched from delicate pencils. Soft shades and sweet hues blend in loveliness… but I don’t want the sky to be lovely.
My sky was meant to bleed reds and greens, blues and oranges, yellows and purples, and every single shade of gray. It was meant to catch fire from the force of its unrestrained passion and daring fervency.
But instead, the sky falls apart like the petals of a rose, perpetually dropping in silence and taping itself back together with lines from forgotten melodies.
My sky was meant to be woven from drops of heaven sliding down the horizon like fallen stars. I was meant to hold a needle and thread so I could sew the curve of the sun into a seamless circle that ends where I begin…
…but instead, the muted hush of reality has hemmed itself into the lining of the sky.
My sky was meant to breathe in my ardor and breathe out a freedom that I could take and pin to my spirit to make it wilder. It was meant to curve so that it could fit the splendid arches of the rainbow. It was supposed to unite the strokes of sunrise at the horizon with the arms of trees reaching upwards to stroke the dawn. In its effervescent fearlessness, my sky was supposed to meet the demands of the world with a smirk written in the stars. It was meant to pull vermilion clouds into middle-finger taunts for those who overstep their grace – unashamed and strong. Bold and beautiful, it would be transcendent of expectations and limitations.
But instead, the sky is lined with tentative slips of mist that shyly offer themselves to others, too pleasant to consider brushing away the covers of cordiality.
My sky was meant to be a dome to cover every raindrop of my inexpressible sadness. It was supposed to guard the billowing winds of my panicked terror and stand strong against the depressive iron-bleak, snow-stilled winters. Against the wild rains and slashing sleets of my ire, my sky would hold together. It was supposed to fortify the scope of my emotions like a snow-globe that captures the essence of who I was meant to be.
But instead, the sky is gentle and carries only a trace of the emotion suppressed beneath remote breezes. The sky only just hints at traces of sentiment laced in the acquiescent spread of clouds.
My sky was meant to be a liquid mirror patchwork of everything I’ve ever felt, it was meant to bind the ranges of my rainbow to the steadiness of blue. It would reflect my lights and reflect my darks, it would safeguard the malignancies of shadows lurking between my heartstrings, and it would magnify the brilliance of moonlight playing among strands of my soul. To balance my wretchedness and my cheer in the steadiness of midday, my sky was supposed to blend the sunrise and the sunset in the swirl of daylight.
But instead, the sky hides its darkness behind the demure serenity of phantom peace and still nights that are perpetually holding their breath.
My sky was meant to bind my turbulent emotions to the ghosts of my tears, to take clotheslines of the words I will never say and braid them into the tresses of willow trees.
But instead, the sky is complacent. It’s satisfied with the sweetness of pale pastels. The sunrises are dusted with watered-down versions of rose and peach. The sky is simple and sleepy and the sun shines placidly. The sky is wistful, a quiet reminder of everything I could have been.
My sky was meant to be beautiful, daring, a quilt of everything I’ve ever felt, a patchwork of everything I want to be.
But instead, the sky is polite and pretty, pleasant and passive… predictable. It’s suffocatingly silent, shallow in its stagnant stillness. And it’s not enough.
My sky was meant to be dauntless and striking – I was meant to be dauntless and striking.
But I am not. I was meant to be so much more than this. But I am not.
Nowadays, I sit and fix my gaze upwards… and I wonder who I am.
Sienna. “Err0r9 on DeviantArt.” Err0r9 (Sienna) – DeviantArt. DeviantArt, n.d. Web. 27 Oct. 2016. <http://err0r9.deviantart.com/>.
Admin Yuhiam. “Benjamin Moore Evening Dove Paint.” , Sky Color Combinations for Home. Benjamin Moore, 1 Sept. 2016. Web. 27 Oct. 2016. <http://www.yuhiam.xyz/photo/sky-color-combinations-for-home-18.html>.
“Clouds Landscapes Artwork Fantasy Sky Clouds Ocean Sea Reflection Wallpaper | 1920×1080 | 58898 | WallpaperUP.” Clouds Landscapes Artwork Fantasy Sky Clouds Ocean Sea Reflection Wallpaper | 1920×1080 | 58898 | WallpaperUP. WallpaperUP, n.d. Web. 27 Oct. 2016. <http://www.wallpaperup.com/58898/clouds_landscapes_artwork_fantasy_sky_clouds_ocean_sea_reflection.html>.