They say pills will fix my broken thoughts.
My thoughts are not broken. They don’t need fixing.
What I need is for life to stop hurling a constant slew of crap my way…I need life to take a break,
enough time away to allow me to recuperate in-between.
I need time,
to gather my senses, to summon my wits about me and prepare for the next attack.
I need a moment, a moment, a moment, one small moment in-between is all I’m asking for.
She opened the door of her apartment block and was immediately assaulted by the sultry summer smells of flowers, barbeques and the scent of grass that had been caressed by sunlight since the early hours of the morning.
The sunlight dappled the pavement underneath her, the shaded areas the shadows of the leaves from the trees above, whose mahogany branches combined with the rich green leaves, pink blossoms and the glistening beams of sunlight, created a picture so stunning, the sight of it would have taken anyone’s breath away.
But she saw none of it…smelt none of it…for her focus was firmly fixed on the tragedies of her past, an unwelcome and unresisted ghost that had lain like a cloak over her for the past three years. Such was the clinginess of this company, it was hard for her to remember if she had ever lived life without this oppressive companion seemingly inching closer and closer to her every year to strangle every last breath of life that she had to breathe, till she and the ghost became synonymous. One. But yet she still lived. She still breathed. She was still here. But not because she wanted to be.