Fiction

lately, i'd rather play mobile games than write anything here in my personal space. there's too much swimming around in my mind these days - i don't want to face or deal with any of it. i've found it difficult to express my thoughts through blogging. maybe i've gotten rusty.

i remember i used to be able to write about anything, but i'm considering a purge. purging everything, starting... nothing new, but just existing in nothing. somehow, that feels comforting. more comforting than having to face a white canvas, struggling to fill it with even a splash of meaning.

She still felt the discomfort in her chest – the sudden shortness of breath, as if her lungs were collapsing – whenever he crossed her mind. Their history was short, but she vividly recalled the depths of his eyes, his uplifting smile, the curve of his nose, and his elegant cheekbones...