So I tried to write some poetry, not really sure it worked but hey :P
Numb. That was all she felt. This overwhelming numbness. It was as if she were shrouded in it. Like she were surrounded by this cloud, numbing her emotions. Deadening her senses.
She no longer felt human and yet, she didn’t possess the physically indestructible nature of a machine.
In that moment she didn’t feel like she was 19, she felt old. As old as the earth. As if in her short time she had in fact seen as much, experienced as much, as a mountain, slowly growing over many, many years. Through wars, famines and disasters.
She didn’t know how much longer she could cope. She was as cold as the looming mountain ranges, and yet she had such a rage within her, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could go without erupting, like the greatest volcano in history. Her history anyway.
Oh the rage, the heat of the rage. It had been battling within the rocky exterior, the front she put up every day. She could sense the beginnings of cracks, crevices which would one day open up. That couldn’t happen here, or there. The people living near the volcano needed to be evacuated, for their own safety. She wasn’t safe. She longed for their company but the guilt, oh the guilt. She needed to keep them all safe, move them away from the volcano. Move away! And stay away. Although the volcano is a mess and no one knows when she’s going to blow. She thinks she will every day, every night and yet, she’s still standing. The crevices are still only threats, shadows of what could be. They don’t understand that she’s a volcano. To them, she’s just as beautiful as ever and their favourite walking route and picnic spot are near her. And oh the view, such a magnificent view. There is not another like it in all the world. But she can’t see the view, she only has eyes for the rage within and they need to get away, get away. Fly you fools, leave this place before it is too late.
And they think she lies dormant, she’s a hidden danger. They don’t know she’s ready to blow any moment. It could be just as they are enjoying the view from her shoulder, or as they meander through her gentle, cradling arms. She doesn’t want to hurt them, so she keeps her rage hidden. They shouldn’t worry. They can’t help her anyway. She’s beyond anyone’s control, even her own. Maybe if God stepped in, but surely He has bigger issues to deal with.
Her rage is forgotten, that is, until the fateful day after no one could help her and it happens. Something shifts, changes, everything will be different and nothing will be the same ever again. And then people will come and see the aftermath, feel sorry for a little while, complain that she’s no longer beautiful, just a mess. She ruins the landscape, ruins the view. And they will hate her. They will no longer walk the slopes to see the view from the top. She is broken and people don’t like broken things, she will lie in ruins, alone, forever.