16/08/03 - back of red notebook found under my bed
The rot was definitely setting in she thought. Sitting in the once pristine garden, it was now awash with curled, dead leaves. The beds were splattered with weeds - an untidy reminder outside as to what was going on inside. Inside her head, inside her house, inside her world. Nothing obviously happened mattered anymore (sic). Everything had been left to get on with it. She gulped the tea from her favourite mug - a strange kind of comfort tea from your favourite mug. She was sitting on her favourite step drinking tea from her favourite mug. She thought how childish of me, how sad that life's little comforts and obsessions mean so much.
posted by rockmother at 1:07 AM
2 Comments:
This is really poignant RoMo. Sometimes something really simple can mean so much can't it? A lovely cup of tea is so nice. This captured something. Desperate loneliness, the need for something. Just the need for a moment alone with some kind of simple comfort. I thought this was beautiful.
Thank you Mollster - I wrote it sitting on the end of my bed!
Post a Comment
<< Home