Swing, Swing


She sat swinging in the old tire swing in her grandparents' backyard. With her head tipped back and her blond hair flying behind her, she painted the picture of happiness. To the neighborhood people passing by, she seemed peaceful, swaying gently back and forth. The flowers beneath her feet, the rosebushes surrounding the backyard, the massive willow tree from which the tire hung all blended perfectly into the relaxed atmosphere. But upon closer inspection, the flowers were crushed dandelions, the roses withered and dry, and the willow tree cracked and weak.

His name was only a whisper on her plump, pink lips. He had been just like any other boy at school – the pressed polos, the ironed slacks, the wallet always full of money. And she had been just like any other girl at school – the expensive clothes, the designer handbags, and lips never without a glossy shine. But there had been something special about him. An almost ethereal glow surrounded him, and this caused a mass of girls to crowd him every moment of every day. There had been nothing special about her. No glow, no special look.

A deprecating curl of her lips appeared as she surveyed the backyard. She was not a passionate person; rather, she was icy and cold, emotionless. It was no wonder why she felt calm in this environment. No birds chirped cheerfully, overgrown weeds sprouted out of the ground, and the small, cool creek that ran behind the tree matched her personality.

Perhaps that was why he never seemed to smile her way. The bravura of emotion would have most likely been frozen in her presence. Her classmates had whispered behind her back, saying that she had no feelings and no emotions. He had been so full of them. That was the reason of her admiration for him – he was not afraid to show anger, feel depressed, or beam in joy. They were like fire and ice.

Eighteen years of her life had gone by. Five of them she had spent longing for one of his smiles to be directed in her way. Alas, she was too remote for even him to reach. Her love for him had gone unnoticed. Sometimes she hated her coldness towards life. She could not feel happiness, she could not be angered, she could not feel sadness. For the latter she was grateful. She never had to worry about shedding tears in pain or hurt. When she realized that he was going to leave her life, a pang of gloom stabbed her in the side. Quick as a bolt of lightning, the melancholy feeling disappeared.

The swing continued moving back and forth, sometimes in circles. Everything seemed to be a blur, moving too fast for her to comprehend. A wave of nausea swept over her, causing her to stop the tire swing vehemently. She had forgotten that the swing caused dizziness to overcome her. Gasping for breath, she closed her eyes and breathed in the humid air. Sighing deeply, she began to move her feet again. The only sound in the backyard was the mournful creaking of the old swing.

A/N: I know, I know. You're probably thinking, "What the heck is this about!?" Honestly, I don't know myself. I just felt like writing. And so I wrote.