Unremarkable

Outside the chilled Santa Ana winds are whipping through every tree, every grass blade. Inside the warm atmosphere is comforting as the time reads 5:02pm. Standing near the stove as the chicken & wild rice soup calmly bubbles away, the aroma soothing. In the 425* oven, these sharp cheddar & garlic biscuits rising to a golden brown, this aroma intoxicating as always.

My ears are soaking in every therapeutic word and note of Jumpsuit, this anthem resonating all too deeply in my cerebral. Lately, this uneasy feeling has been digging its claws into my freckles and bones, trying to hide this emotion behind my hazel irises is deeming difficult. Unremarkable…this being the only word I can attach to this swimming emotion.

In my favorite hoodie I am able to cloak my unremarkable sign glowing neon black on my forehead. This crop hoodie is my batcave, multi-gray and white with the iconic Pink dog stitched on the bottom left side. This hood may seem as though it’s simply covering these brunette locks and tiny German ears, but actually this hood is shielding the storm thundering in my cranium..protecting the gold and wondering scars on my heart.

Not knowing how this feeling conjured itself, not knowing how to blast it to smithereens. At least for now, I’m just simply unremarkable.

I’ll be right there, but you’ll have to grab my throat and lift me in the air, if you need anyone… -Twenty Øne Piløts

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