Monday, 18 February 2013


JournalWord: Clean, scraped off.


"Hey, I think we're safe-" 

Harry's smile falters when he swivels to reassure her. She's farther in the shadows, and the glow from the moon is casting just enough light from the corner for him to see her. She can only see half his face from her angle, but its enough for her to realize something is utterly wrong. 

"Your arm," he whispers when she piques an eyebrow at his gaping mouth and wide eyes.

"Oh, it's nothing, I just scraped it when I fell," she replies, but when she gazes down to her injured limb to reassure him, she freezes.

The top layers of her skin are missing, clean, scraped off, but instead of the rushing blood and exposed muscles she expects, she is transfixed by the shimmering, metallic patch hidden under her skin. It glitters in the scant light, casting tiny sparkles of green and blue onto the dark concrete walls. The patch radiates a silent hum that enchants attention. 

"What," she starts and stammers. What is this? She tilts her face up at Harry, hoping he will explain, but she's met with a mystified expression similar to her own.

He rips off his tattered t-shirt sleeve from its last holding threads and wraps and ties the ratty fabric securely over the shining wound. "We have to run. We'll deal with this later. Don't think too much about it."

Grabbing her hand, he checks around the corner, before leading her out into the open.


Something uber-tiny to pass the time and calm the fluttering creative bugs. I've been feeling under the rocks for a couple days now after the first couple sprigs of midterms, so I'm attempting to recover during my break. It's not really working out as I had planned. -.-' 

So far, I have been caught up in a lot more than I had initially signed up for (uni, working on the side). I've been going to counselling for my extreme anxiety.

After a terrible realization that I am in desperate need of personal help (a personal reflection is always desired, especially when I can't distinguish myself from the social scene), I have signed myself up for counselling with a counselor to delve into ways to combat and confront my tension. Because, apparently, I am an extreme case for anxiety (I spew out swear words during speeches or shake like a 9.0 earthquake in northeastern Japan. The list goes on...); of which my counselor is immensely impressed by. 

Well, I've started a yoga class, on the referral of my counselor, as one of many ways to deviate my stress and tension (and after a couple classes, boy am I tense!), so if anyone has any interest in yoga, please let me know! I'm a complete chicklet to the topic and I am attempting to combat my skepticism with fascination (yes, that's how I combat any fear and it has worked with spiders, the dark, roller coasters, etc.. And, again, my counselor is strangely impressed by the thought process...)

I'll keep chugging along, 


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