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yet another post.

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Pain. It can be physical. It could be a broken arm, or a bruise. It could be as simple as a cut on your leg. This type of pain can be seen by everyone. It’s on display for anybody who needs to know. However, there is another form of pain. It’s the kind that nobody can see, or respond to. It’s deeper, and more hurtful. It’s the emotional pain. It torments us day and night, until we find it hard to sleep, to eat, to function properly anymore. Nothing we do seems to kerb it. No matter how many antibiotics we take, or how much sleep we have, it’s still there. There is no common remedy, nothing that can simply make us better. Not time, not drugs, not money. And unless we seek help for ourselves, there’s nothing anybody else can do about it. In that sense, our emotional hurt should be considered more frightening than the thought of fully body paralysis.

Waiting for…

The unhappy drag of time is a game they like to play with us. Because really, time isn’t all that absolute. Sure, 1.50pm will come in ten minutes. But those tenĀ  minutes can sometimes feel like an eternity. Time is precious, they say. Sometime, events and things cannot be accurately measured in time. Sometimes, time doesn’t matter all that much. It’s not how much time you have, it’s what you do with the time that is important. It’s how it makes you feel, which really matters. In the end, time is simply a toy we use to make it look like we understand exactly what life is about.

The Intangibility of Clouds

Rain droplets shower down upon a brown hacked head. Holding a small orange bag, with a slight frown on her face. The ringing of a doorbell. A friendly exchange took place. When the rain finally lightened, things had changed. The sky, once grey, now blue. She had lost the frown, but gained so much more. And now, stuck in a world that was dreary and downcast, she finally found the silver lining she had been looking for.

Ecstacy

Four hours. A windy day filled with hope. Feeling awkward, shy, nervous. Happy? Like walking on a cloud. Those smiles. Staring at the screen, but all too conscious of the arm on the armrest. Walking together in silence.
And running without a goodbye.
The three of us. Captured on camera, committed to memory.

How can happiness be so simply captured on a sticker?

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