I ache, from the inside out… yet I am hollow, listless, lonely… I want to climb into the cushioned depths of a silvered bubble and float away into a different world… one that twinkles with soft white lights and the glow of a lover's eyes. I want the world to be beautiful again, for the first time ever, and for my walls to be painted exactly the right shade of dusty grey. I want clean-curtained air and wide wood floors, the ache in my bones and muscles to be a dim memory from the mountain I climbed with my heart in my mouth, the familiar sap of energy to follow the rush of investment in a favored project. I want cups of sweet, creamy coffee and intimate conversations, afternoons of sweat and concentration and "We're gonna do this, dammit!" while working for a cause. I want mundane weekends of scrubbing the floors and wiping down windowsills, of errands and baking and packing lunches for the week. I want entire days of looking forward to an evening out with friends, of trips to the big city for something other than doctor's appointments. I want a day that is not metered by the swallowing of pills, the careful measuring of pain medication.
I want to live inside of the world I collect and catalog on Pinterest, where everything is carefully and intentionally crafted, cleaned and polished and ready to bring that elusive peace and rest to the weary soul. I can't help but feel that if I were healthy… I could make all my Pinterest dreams come true.
I want to live inside of the world I collect and catalog on Pinterest, where everything is carefully and intentionally crafted, cleaned and polished and ready to bring that elusive peace and rest to the weary soul. I can't help but feel that if I were healthy… I could make all my Pinterest dreams come true.
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