I grew up surrounded by love, unconditional love. I never doubt if my family would be there for me. Because they loved me so, my parents raised me to conform to the society’s norms. That way, they thought, I would lead a happy life. My husband despised anyone trying to fit in and respected the…
For The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge, Evanescent .
She has been out of milk for four days now. The fridge is nearly empty except some condiments. She eats whatever so that she wouldn’t ache from hunger. The scenes and sound of people killing people, of unassuming people getting hurt, and of excited people getting angry and shouting the blame perpetuate outside. They stress…
I have no one waiting for me or needing me, no responsibilities – socially or personally, and no sense of reality nowadays. Do people call this an unmoored life? Disconnected, unattached, loose, therefore, confused, insecure, and unstable. For The Daily Post’s daily prompt, Unmoored. 定期的に、3日くらい続けて何もしたくなくなる。ただ、ただ、頭をパソコンに突っ込む。現実を見ないように。惨めな自分の姿に気づかないように。
They say clubbed thumb is genetic. I inherited this trait from … whom? No one in my family has this problem but me! For The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge, Heritage .
For Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: Letters W or X
Can you see the light I emit, upon the sea of the irresolute and loneliness, a single stray light? You may not notice it. But, I’m here. For Three Line Tales, Week 68
If I do nothing and accomplish nothing, then I have nothing to regret, … right? For The Daily Post’s daily prompt, Precipice.
“He didn’t make it.” “Not all of us do.” “Not in this freezing temperature. Alexa, get us out of here.” “Okay. Cortana, show me the map.” “I’m sorry I can’t do that.” “Okay. Siri, show me the map.” “I’m not sure I understand. My apologies.” “Google, what’s going on?” “There is a technical problem…
I am a daughter. I am a sister. I have been a friend. I have been a missus. I’ve never been a mother or called “Mommy” either. But, I am my mother. 母にずいぶん似てきたと言われる。 褒め言葉でもないような——— 。
It’s getting dark, and I’m tired. Sitting on the dusty floor with my back against the hard wall, I eat a bowl of cereal for dinner, alone, for the third night in a row. A dead end. Again. For The Daily Post’s daily prompt, Maze.
… reality. For The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge, Reflecting .