She stood rooted in her spot wondering what her truth was and where she could find it. She stared at the hats wanting to pick a random one and be transported immediately elsewhere.
She felt traumatized. She felt pain. She wanted to run. She felt everything and nothing at all. That was her truth.
Categories: Culture, current events, mental health, photography, writing prompt
psychologistmimi 
Ironies of Life Seeing
Everyone Have So
Much Fun even
In A Cigarette Break
Where i did Not Smoke
Long After School
Days At Work
Finally
Overcoming
Autism Emerging
Dancing Social
Butterfly
At 53
Now
Close to 60
The Social
Life All Together
Around The Globe
Masked No Longer
To See… We Visited
The so-called Re-opened
Mall Masked to see Two
Big Ladies’ Apparel
Stores Open
Barely
A Customer
And the Rest of
The Mall Taped
Off For The
Crime
Scene
Yet to ‘Breathe’
Price Of Being
A Species
Taking
More
Than
Giving
For Nature
Giveth As
The Real
Master Takes
Away.. Sigh what
Comes Will Go
The Good
News
We
Are
Still Here
We Breathe..
And Dance
Is now still
EVeRWHerE
We Spring Feet..
So Far At Least..
i
Still
Sing..:)
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I’m thinking of my truth now. What really is my truth?
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Indeed, Our truth these days is so obscure at times.
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