Forgiving and forgetting, that was all she was doing lately. Inking in stubs of memories into her existence, mulling over what ifs that would at times overwhelm her. She looked at her reflection, running her fingers through her freshly washed hair, as memories danced in and out of her eyes.
Dwelling on the past was dangerous. Weren't there enough poems written by the sad and wise? Enough cliched quotes she had read in her lifetime?
Perfection had seemed such an amiable concept when she was younger. The blind confidence that everything would fall into place, that she would get exactly what she wanted one day, perhaps with a bit of a struggle in between.
But that would be too simple, wouldn't it?
Thoughts were getting entangled, yet she knew there was just one thread she needed to find that would smoothen it out. It was all about will power in the end. And that was something she needed to depend only on herself for.
She smiled as she penned it down.
"The secret to happiness was discovered on a warm Tuesday afternoon, in a room filled with old sports equipment and posters of classic rock artists."
Entirely fictional
2 comments:
i like the last line :)
Usually, I'd say it's closure and not will power :D But your last line is where the story actually should start, not story but let's say a vignette of that room and her memories.
P.S.: Will power really sounded like one of those sad and wise things to say ;)
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