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Free Writing - Take 45

Too tired to concentrate on film or a book, but wasting away, reading misspelled and incorrect words, damaged relationships, sadness abound. I sit, possibly worse off than most, but yet I stifle it. Hidden under a robust smile and glassy eyes. The torture of reality, feels like lashes on my soul.  I drop hints, like bait, but there isn't a nibble. Sharing my secret with a few, for no reason other than to share; at times a common bond. The little girl next door whistling, calling for her cat to come home. It's midnight and she can't be more than ten. Alone in a big world, riding her bike by day, searching endlessly by night. Her cat, her companion. Too young to be living in this solitude and yet I envy her. Free from judgement. Riding her bike, playing in the dirt, sitting alone, contemplating a future I pray is brighter than mine. I gaze at photographs, the smile big and bright as I run naked through the weeds, contracting ever so slightly with each passing year. No fault but my own, I try to tell the voice in my head, but he seems content on reminding me of this and that. He points to the space where people once were and laughs at their absence. For a second I feel a stupor, brought on by the hours of the day, more so yesterday to be truthful. Sleep awaits, but for how long, before that nagging voice wakes, for no other reason, but to point out the void, which was once overpopulated.

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