She let the dreary feeling wash over her and gradually succumbed to the darkness. Knowing that her love for him was overwhelming her, she fell further into the pitiless nightmare. There, she realized, that sometimes love doesn't conquer all.
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••••• athazagoraphobia (n.) -the fear of forgetting, being forgotten or ignored, or being replaced •••••
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THE evening blurs into dreary nothingness as she waits for him helplessly this Tuesday night. It is pitiful, but Florence doesn't care.
He hasn't been here for three days yet it feels like eternity to her. She mentally prepares herself for the night ahead, understanding that the only other alternative for a good rest is her friend Jack Daniels. Jack is always there to help drown her sorrows, giving her the energy she needs with the fuel of alcohol. She contemplates performing such an activity now as she sits alone.
In respect to what her mother does, it isn't hard to find a half empty bottle of tequila or a discarded flask somewhere within the dregs of the filthy house. Flo became acquainted with the liquid drug at a young age. The pleasure she got while drinking was unlike anything she'd ever known. She felt beloved, by who she didn't know, but it was an illusion that grabbed her by the heart and breathed life into it.
She notices absentmindedly that the wallpaper decorating the hallways gradually chips into nakedness and the floors creak vehemently, crying for help. The state of the crumbling house reminds her of her own life-- an endless pit of doom that no one wants to acknowledge, or even simply care for, leaving it to deteriorate on its own.
