I feel tired and old. The years are pressing on me. All l thirty-three of them are weighing heavily on me, all the twists and turns of a life spent merely existing, hiding. I have regrets. Fear drowns hope with exaggerated faults. Could have, would have… should have… didn’t. I know I’m still young, but I can’t deny I am also old. My prime child-bearing years have passed; that damn clock mimics my heartbeat, and with every passing month, mocks me when I bleed. The wheel turns once more, and I am still here, distracting myself from that clock as best I can.
Posted by straykatstrut
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