My night jumbled into a creative short story thing..
There were no honest means of escape. There was no possible way to leave this deep, valid hell hole. Age restricted her from many different ways to flee, but instead she sat at the dining room table hovering over work that needed to be done. Her awareness had sharpened; the only things running through her mind were of her bottled irritation and the salty tears falling onto the paper before her. This wasn’t new (the constant bickering between the kin) nor did it surprise her the slightest. The causes of these arguments were ridiculous and silly, but none the less pushed her on the edge of breaking down.
Later, she would laugh at how insignificant the moment would be compared to every other fixation in her life. Until that time comes, she continues to write down the emotions as if trying to “let them go.” In a way, writing calms her down quite soundly. It is her way to move these unwanted feelings farther from her; it’s as if transferring them into an empty space that will not complain or unleash the feelings like she would, instead it can keep them as long as she desires.
What else does she need? It is hard to tell. The telephone rang, and the mother answered with an angry tone to the person at the other end of the receiver. It was for her. Oddly enough, she cared for this person deeply and had not heard from them in fairly long time. Earlier she was afraid to speak to a soul. She was afraid because a single word might start a whole new quarrel, which was at the top of her list of things to not do. The caller spoke to her with a relaxed attitude, and 15 minutes later, all was well. She thanked this wonderful person for helping her, and he concluded the conversation by saying “you look so beautiful when you cry.”
Later, she would laugh at how insignificant the moment would be compared to every other fixation in her life. Until that time comes, she continues to write down the emotions as if trying to “let them go.” In a way, writing calms her down quite soundly. It is her way to move these unwanted feelings farther from her; it’s as if transferring them into an empty space that will not complain or unleash the feelings like she would, instead it can keep them as long as she desires.
What else does she need? It is hard to tell. The telephone rang, and the mother answered with an angry tone to the person at the other end of the receiver. It was for her. Oddly enough, she cared for this person deeply and had not heard from them in fairly long time. Earlier she was afraid to speak to a soul. She was afraid because a single word might start a whole new quarrel, which was at the top of her list of things to not do. The caller spoke to her with a relaxed attitude, and 15 minutes later, all was well. She thanked this wonderful person for helping her, and he concluded the conversation by saying “you look so beautiful when you cry.”