She clung to those words, believing they meant what she heard, what she dreamed of for so long. Fear lapped her. Was she the first to experience this anquish-laced joy? For years, every song, every note reminded her of that dream she held too tightly. A dream now too habitual for reality to ever sustain.


About writesome

I've been wanting to do this for a while. Now I can type instead of pen scratch in a journal. It's an experiment, but isn't life. I wish you joy and happiness. May life bless you and may you bless life. View all posts by writesome

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