It was not quite a hundred years of snow, she mused as she pulsed through the wet stuff that had fallen during the night, but this winter the snow hadn’t gone away in three days’ time as it usually did. The mild winters in the southern regions of her country seldom allowed the temperature to sink beneath freezing, but this year was different. The
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"Most people would say that her life was neither more repetitious nor more tedious than any other person's, and they would probably be right. She couldn't help but hate it anyway..."
Odd how that line often sums up how I feel on bad days. I remind myself that there are countless others who probably feel or are experiencing what I am... and I am not unique in my mood, hurt, anger... but it never quite nullifies or lessen the enormity of what is felt within.
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Yes... Perspective is nice, in a way, but not when it comes to the subjective. Then it becomes a mere mental excercise.
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