'Drape' by Eva Stenram.
And so another week has come to an end. Some of you might find this last day of the week genious, but to me it's the one day I dislike the most. The sad, but honest fact that I'm a person who sees the glass as half empty rather than half full might play a part in this minor mindset I unwantedly possess. For most of us it's a free day, still weekend and a day when it's even religiously legal to rest. I try, but continue to fail.
To me it's this insidious feeling of agony...
– for the things I didn't accomplish and for what will come, but mostly for the powerlessness to prevent time from slipping through our fingers, day by day, like tiny grains of hot silky sand.
Do you ever feel this or did you finish your glass without any reflections at all?
To me it's this insidious feeling of agony...
– for the things I didn't accomplish and for what will come, but mostly for the powerlessness to prevent time from slipping through our fingers, day by day, like tiny grains of hot silky sand.
Do you ever feel this or did you finish your glass without any reflections at all?
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