I have eaten too many words.
My spine creaks and groans as I swell.
My pages are full of small print that cannot be erased or edited.
I grow tired.
Ready.
That shelf contains all the others like me.
Some are thin but no less important.
Others are far fatter than I, full of life.
They found their end.
Some were forced.
Some asked.
Some faded into a sunset on a warm afternoon.
Some were jammed into the shelf on a cold night.
They are just like me.
I am reaching my end.
How lucky am I that the next blank page will have me.
To look upon.
To read.
To learn from.
Heres to the next sentence.
The next page.
The next chapter.
About the Creator
Brier
Im a drunk steel worker from Wisconsin that enjoys writing. Currently working on my first novel and doing some short stories in the mean time.
Chronic Ache in the Soul of a Single Parent
There is a chronic ache in the soul of a single parent. It lingers, feeling endless. This ache feels so difficult, especially when you look at other families. They seem so… whole. They seem so joyful and complete. There is a husband and a wife and children in a stroller. Thinking about your single state, you realize how awkward you feel, how out of place at various functions and gatherings. They are all happily together and you’re miserably alone. Disappointment with the current life circumstances just settles in to stay, or so it feels. How could these layers of disappointment be broken up anyhow?
By Rowan Finley 5 days ago in Humans
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.