IT HURTS LIKE HELL WHEN YOU REALIZE THAT THERE IS NO ONE TO LOVE YOU. YOU COULD CHOKE IN THE AIR, OR GASP AT SOME WATER TO HANG ONTO. YOU WOULD FEEL DESPAIR, OR RUN LIKE A MADWOMAN IN THE CROWD. YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO DISAPPEAR, BUT YOU WOULD LIKE TO STAY ONE MINUTE MORE. IN CASE, SOMEONE LOVES YOU BACK, SOMEONE WILL COME, FROM THE BACK DOOR, IF NOT THE FRONT. YOU STARE AT THE CEILING, THE PALE WHITE MONOTONE STARES BACK. IT'S LIKE A MIRROR OF YOUR SOUL, THE SAME PAINSTAKING SOLUTION OF TWO INSOLUBLE THINGS. YOU WILL LAUGH AND FOUR TEARDROPS WILL GLIDE DOWN YOUR DRY CHEEKS. PERHAPS YOU WILL FEEL LIKE RAIN ON THE DESERT, GAWKING AT THE BLACK CLOUDS, WAITING FOR IT TO GROAN, AND YELL LIKE A LADY GIVING BIRTH. YOU KNOW YOU FEEL NOTHING, 'CAUSE YOU ARE SIMPLY A MADWOMAN IN THE ATTIC, WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO BE BELONGED.
YOU ARE READING
Mountain Souvenirs- A collection of Emotions
RandomNo parts of this book is published elsewhere.
