The day that it finally comes is the day that pigs fly. But pigs can fly. I'm sure of it. In the same way that I know I can fly. No, I didn't have to grow wings. Just find a paraglider. Is it exactly the same? No, I suppose not. But technically, I still can fly. Just as much as pigs can. So, yes. Today is not the day it finally comes. Because that day was long ago. Why hasn't it come?
About the Creator
KB
A snippet of life. Some real, some not. Thanks for reading!
Instincts of Survival
The mountain air was thinner than Lina remembered. Each breath burned her lungs as she climbed higher along the narrow trail, her boots scraping against loose stones. Pine trees surrounded her like silent guards, their tall shadows stretching across the rocky ground. She had come alone to clear her mind, believing the mountains were safer than the noise of the world below.
By Bilal Mohammadi6 days ago in Fiction
Day 4 of Quitting
If this is how sobriety feels, maybe it’s better to go through life a little buzzed… this, along with other hits like, I want to kill myself, I wish I was dead, and I’m going to throw myself off a bridge have been the only thoughts on rotation these past few days. I promise myself that if, in a month, I still feel like this (‘this’ meaning despondent, full of rage, and simultaneously numb) I can go back to smoking. Until mid-February though? Nicotine is off the table.
By sleepy drafts4 days ago in Longevity
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.