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Showing posts from July, 2014

Flash Fiction #34

Winter. Spring. Summer. Autumn.

As I stared outside, each passing season always give me a signal that my birthday is coming up during the year. Here I am in this room all alone. Every other day in the year is all the same. Sleep. Eat. Work. There's no one to spend it with, and I'm just too tired to do anything after work. It must have been that time when everything became the same day after day. Days became weeks which in turn became months, and eventually years. I'm not sure what to do with my life anymore. I'm not good at anything, and am satisfied being the mediocre person in a mediocre job for a predictable future. 

What was it like to have passion? You must have taught me in high school when we met. That first meeting when you picked up the guitar after walking into the music room, and started playing. You must have heard me playing down the hallway. The good thing about playing the piano when I was younger was it could be played solo. I never had friends, and thoug…