A drive around the block

A Story by Lina

stream of consciousness writing

There’s too much to do, and nothing to do, too much to say, and nothing to say, there’s nothing like it, a feeling of distress, a feeling of hopelessness, a feeling of nothing. Nothing to look forward to, or faking something to look forward to. Making something important that isn’t important. No, nothing like it, too much like it, nothing, everything, strange. Pitter patter of hearts and feet, tremble and stream along, around, trying not to grasp for the air that is very much lacking. A drive, a walk, a float, all too dangerous. Danger lurks, dreams lurk, people lurk. Arms in the air, sometimes even feet. Despair. Faith, if there is any left in anyone. Desire, whether or not its real.