Artemis Drifting

Just because she tippietoes, doesn't mean she's a creepin'.

Those are your eyes, ain’t they?

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They say when a door is shut, that a window’s gonna open sometime. What happens when that door shuts and you find yourself in an entirely different house? What you thought you were gonna be seein’ out the window is something else entirely. You can’t stay inside, because it isn’t your room anymore. The floorboards don’t squeak the same when you walk over them, and you certainly didn’t pick out the goofy lookin’ wallpaper. You either gotta step out into a yard you know nothing about, or wrench that door open and figure out just what sort of house you’ve gotten yourself into.


Occasionally you find some stuff that’s yours. Maybe some pictures scattered under the bed. You’re looking at them, and you know that you’ve been pals with them. But just like everything else that’s changed around you, they’re not the same people anymore either. You don’t know whether you’re supposed to be disappointed or angry – or hell, maybe you could be a little relieved.


But the part of you that remembers your old house, it’s not ready to let go of all those echoes. It can’t see, it won’t see, the way everything has turned out. Because you know that when you finally go out that window, some of those folks won’t be there anymore. You’re going to forget some of those memories that really defined who you were for the longest time.


But here’s the thing, I figure – you spend so much time looking around on how everything’s gotten up and damn well done a one eighty on you, you don’t notice that it everything looks so funny because while you were distracted someone snuck in and changed out your eyes.


Nothing changed. It was always your room, always your yard – but one morning you woke up and you saw everything differently.


Sometimes, sometimes, you could touch something and remember. But it’s never going to be the same again. All you have got to go on is sensations that crumble like ash the moment you try to push any deeper. An’ old song that sounds so damn familiar, but you can’t remember the lyrics or why it had you bawlin’ in the car when it started playing.


But I’m okay, I’m going to be more than okay. Because even if I didn’t have that window, I have a hatchet. And if I had too, I’d bust my way out in a storm of bricks and plaster.

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