Life, As It Is


I'm just this guy, you know?

To expand on that, I am also the following...

- A former ficly member who is 38 years old and is schizoaffective (depressive type)

- Into creating languages and fantasy worlds from scratch

- A listener of audiobooks & good tunes

- Always too hard on myself

It is strange that something so simple as a string, so small and delicate, could make a bad day good.

It felt like, as I gazed down at it, that it was the only thing in life I could control.

I also felt like the string was a microcosm for the universe that I lived in as a whole.

Time sat along this string and while I couldn't control time as a whole, I knew I could control this string and thus control my life and the things that were thrown at me during it.

It was a comfort that I had never felt before but suddenly I felt it in this small bit of twine.

Life was unusual like that. It was always the small things that made you think and made you absorb the value of the little things that life could give you as a means to an end.

Sometimes it seemed to give you what you needed to cope with all that was going on and sometimes it seemed to leave you afloat in the flotsam of the ebb and flow of the tides.

Somehow, it seemed to come through in the end though. In a way that was unexpected. In a way you needed.


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Author's prompt text:

Opening line from a friend.


  • Published 6 years ago.
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