annalytical
She was no biological accident. She was no random accumulation of atoms and molecules. She was no chance occurrence. She had been created; she had been made to be just so.
The pain began to set in. It was undeniable how much it hurt, how much he wanted to stop. But the finish line was mere meters ahead of him. A few more steps, a few more strides, one final leap, and it would all be behind him. He was driven by desire, by his unquenchable longing for victory.
The pencil hovered over the surface of the sketchbook, waiting for a breath of inspiration. Such motivation was hard to find as of late, and the untainted talent of the pencil's wielder would continue to go unnoticed if the gap between lead and paper could not be bridged.
Just a minor tremor, she whispered to herself. Yet the shards were scattered across the hardwood floor, drifting into the adjacent room. The silence, as that following a final outcry into an indifferent emptiness, pressed against her chest relentlessly.
To commit is something I've never quite gotten a firm grasp on. It's such a permanent word. A marriage is a commitment; a job is a commitment; college is a commitment. The whole notion of permanence stresses me out beyond measure.
writing since 2010 · 5 entries · 5 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Anna showed up.
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5days written
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the words Anna reaches for
commitmentfinalcommitgottenfirmgrasppermanentwordmarriagejobcollegewholenotionpermanencestressesbeyond