A burnt orange sky

I always prefer reading stream of consciousness than unnecessary eloquent description of mundane things. “Maybe I’m not inside the fog , instead the fog seems to be inside me.*”
In just one line, the essence of the entire post can be felt.
Strength by words.

A Thought Process

Each step feels heavy; each step that I take away from you adds to the plethora of distress building up inside of me. I can feel the sharp edges of the pavement digging into the worn out soles of my shoes and it is hard, to not turn around, it is hard, to not to look at you for one last time but I know if I do just that, I’ll never be able to move, never be able to leave. Although I’m compelled to leave and the misery it brings with it is enough to halt my beating heart, I know that all I need to do is to close my eyes and reach out with my mind and that will be enough; it will be enough to eradicate the miles and miles of distance that stretch between you and me, between us. It will be enough to return…

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