randomrockstar

She wanted to stand out, to be special. She didnt feel special; she never did, and guessed that she never would. She didnt know why, she would never, no one would ever, and in the grand scheme of things, she knew it didnt really matter at all; why she didnt feel special.
She washed her face, just like every other night. Pulling her shiny blonde hair into its regular spastic, yet somehow elegant pony tail, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes took their time going over every inch of her reflection. Every inch of exposed flesh, creamy and smooth. Every strand of hair looked in place, but was ostensibly out. Her large, sad brown eyes, with their long dark eye lashes, looked as if she were contemplating something deeper than even existence itself. Her stare covered her full pink lips, her perfect nose, and her strongly defiant jaw line. Her eyes searched every freckle sprinkled from cheek to cheek and across her well-shaped brow. She tilted her head so that she could see her profile, then turned to face front again. She stared at her graceful neck, her well muscled shoulders, and her chest. She paused a moment to stare at the single, small mole just on the outside of her left breast. It mesmerized her for a fleeting moment. A small dark spot on her otherwise flawless white skin.
Her skin so pale, so soft, for the fraction of a second, she was reminded of the single perfect petal of the cal lily. Without thinking, she slowly raised her forearm to her nose to smell, but dropped it back to her side, realizing with a faint inward smile, what she was about to do. She looked at her ribs and the places in between, slightly showing through her skin. She gazed at her flat, flawless stomach, narrow waist, and her hip bones, protruding ever so softly from her shapely hips. She stood, eyes returning to meet the stare of the manifestation in the mirror, looking deep into her own eyes, yet the eyes of a stranger, wishing they could take her somewhere, anywhere other than where she was.
She reached slowly for her long, thick deep blue bathrobe, and put it on, tying the belt tightly around her waist. She shivered, despite the warmth of the terry-cloth, she felt cold. She felt somethingor nothing, she would never quite feel up to explaining to herself or anyone. She would describe it as barren, like a desert, plain. Nothingness surrounded her, made her up; she danced in it, bathed in it. She closed her eyes, barring the vision of her reflection the mirror, feeling nothing but disgust and depression.
She stepped out onto the balcony, and breathed in for what seemed like the first time ever. Crisp white snow flakes slowly drifted around her. The noise of the city twenty three floors below was muffled by the falling of the frozen sky. The city looked so beautiful; she drew in a second sharp breath of cold air. She felt her lungs freeze, then exhaling softly, watched her breath float slowly away from her mouth and out into the midst of the perfect winter night.
She sat on a chair, numbed by the frigid air outside and the even more freezing thoughts swimming in her mind. Sitting on the verge of oblivion, she though of nothing in particular but everything which nothingness encompasses. She watched the misty breath escape from her lips with each exhalation, and imagined the crystals of ice forming in her lungs with each sharply real intake of frigid air. Her eyes wandered the immense expanse of blanketed sky. Each passing second brought infinitely more tiny particles of the falling heavens to her pensive form. She lifted her arm and slowly extended it, palm up, from out of the shelter of her bathrobe. She let any exquisite flake of snow willing to fall, land on her open hand and sit for the briefest of moments, before melting into a single drop of water, from the heat of her pale white skin. She relished in the beauty and awe of each drop of snow. Each was especially perfect, and each captured her attention for such an amount of time that she soon became overwhelmed by the beauty and delight of each individual shaving of falling atmosphere.
She stood slowly, as if not to disturb natures proceedings and with the last inhalation of breath, she could hardly focus on anything. She could feel bliss rising from her toes, slowly but surely, extending out to each single hair on her head. She felt her eyes clear, her sense of smell sharpen, her mind open, free. She let herself meander about her thoughts. About what had been. About what was and what could be. She would never know, and she didnt let it bother her. She didnt care anymore. She closed her eyes, and slowly danced in her mind. Music pulsed in her head and behind her lidded eyes, she danced. Danced with no one but herself, and that was how she wanted it. She spun around amidst the falling snowflakes. Swayed in the falling moon and stars, the brightness of the shattered, cascading sun. She danced on a floor of water, a floor of glass, crystals and diamonds. She could see beneath the floor, and saw what was falling. It wasnt the sky, or the snow. It wasnt the moon and stars or the thought of the broken sun, or the water, or anything. Anything but her. She was falling through her thoughts. Falling and spinning and dancing and swaying down into the darkness of her nothingness. She smiled, in spite of herself. She smiled at her birth. She smiled at the world around her. At the construction and thus falling apart of everything that she had known, and at the falling apart of her own self. And she finally smiled at her death. She felt serene in her thoughts and let her eyes flutter open. She immediately recognized the brooding brown eyes that stared back at her, open wide as if looking upon her for the very first time.
It was probably seconds. But it could have been minuets, hours, days, weeks, months, years. She could have stared at herself in that mirror for an eternity. She didnt blink. She barely breathed. She stood, frozen. She looked dead. For a while, she thought she was, and that would have been a relief.
She slowly and methodically walked out to the balcony. Soft white flakes fell, blanketing the terrace with a silent frozen dust. She spun in a small, graceful twirl, letting her hair out of its elastic so it could cascade over her shoulders, and her hands took hold of the railing. She turned to see her footprints in the snow and she paused for the briefest of moments, a small sad smile forming on her perfect mouth. She blinked once, as if to bid goodbye, then she danced.