She was waiting. Everything was so slow these days. Even those things that were to be rushed went at a snail’s pace. Then again what would be the point in rushing if you just hurried up to wait?
None if it mattered, anyway. You rush to become dirt. To receive ashes. To stare at a minimized essence. She felt sadness but it was at the surface. Deep down there was nothing. Time for another sip of melancholy.
Categories: death, Health, mental health, photography, Psychology, writing prompt
psychologistmimi 
A bit melancholy all right.
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True In Real Hell Now
Ya Don’t Want
Ice Water
A
Tear
Drops
From
Heaven in Hell
Yet i suppose
There
Are
Different Flavors…
Hmm Hope These
Chills i Am
Having
Are
From
The Ice Cream
i Just Ate Perhaps
If i Ate Steak i’d Have
(For Dessert)
No Chills
Oh my
First
World Issues
True Been to
The Other World too…
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I love all your postings. Greetings from Spain.
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That’s me this week. I like your posts. TY
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