i finally get up to write something and it turns into a load of (weird) shit

The subtle beginning of a winter breeze blows in on a mild Saturday mid-morning, swaying a vacant swing seat in the wind. On the companion swing to its right sits a small twenty year old girl in a quiet, deserted elementary school park, shuffling her black Converse sneakers into the dirt beneath her. Her head hangs low, and she seems to mumble unintelligibly- perhaps talking to herself, perhaps singing, perhaps neither. The girl’s curly hair trembles slightly at the breeze’s light yet insistent force, grazing her somber young face. She does not bother to pull it back and out of the way. The elements will affect her without interruption or hesitation. She lets herself hang limply from the seat and holds loosely at the rusted chain. The seat makes no effort to keep her on, either. She looks to be precariously near the edge of it, somehow upholding a balance between a purposeful, composed posture and an apathetic slouch eventually yielding way to gravity. Somewhere between caring and letting go, between feeling and being numb. Sometimes the numbness is preferable- to be honest, more often than not. It’s all or none… the fear of the grey, and the immergence into nothing. Without warning, the seemingly calm park turns into a nightmare. Everything swarms around her at a rapid pace as she moves in slow motion. The world begins to swirl, and yet she does not stir. The mild breeze quickly develops into a howling wind. The trees around her, once placid and neutral in their existence, appear menacing as their limbs outstretch and violently lash out into the darkening sky. She does not seem to notice, much less mind. The poorly-oiled vacant swing beside her squeaks as it flails uselessly in the wind. And still she sits, silent and impassive, with her eyes now gently shut. She’s along for the ride, without any certain direction in mind. There is nothing to wake up from. The chains come alive, writhing, to bind and shackle her hands. Dirt beneath her opens up and begins to whirlpool. It swallows her feet whole. The wind continues to crescendo and sends her swing seat careening backward. Tension from all angles pulls at the girl, nearly tearing her apart at the limbs. A single tear falls from her face and to the swirling ground. The wind stops. The chains let go of their hold, and the earth beneath her coughs up her feet and ceases to turn. Time and the girl align. Slowly, she lifts her head and opens her eyes. She steps up and walks away.