No title…

It’s dark in the room, because she hasn’t turned the light on.  There is a small lamp in the corner, but it is dim at best.  This dimness of light is in accordance with her mood.  Anger, frustration, but something else.  Acceptance?  Little by little, acceptance?

It would be darker if not for the light of her lap top.  The room is silent but for the hum of some other tenants appliance.  A dishwasher maybe.  She thinks of the past and how it still affects the present time and she wishes she could go back and erase it all, or maybe just forget her life completely, start over with no memory, no reminders, no horrible effects.

She leans back on the couch, her arms crossed behind her head.  She relaxes because she knows it’s all an illusion, or mostly anyway.  The size of the hurtles she needs to jump always seems so much larger than reality.  The negative always seems to find a way to make it self seem so frighteningly large.

She sits forward, because it is large.  Huge in fact.  Hard to handle the thoughts that come with the knowledge that you are left with responsibility that is huge and not even your own.  That someone manipulated the system to hurt you.  That same someone that manipulated everything else in her life and yes, it is hard to swallow, but it has to be swallowed none the less.

Now she sits with her head in her hands.  Resignation?  It would be so much easier to deal with hurtles if there were no feelings involved.  No fear of the enormity of it.  No anger over unfairness.  Just clean up the mess.

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