Frustration never sat well on her shoulders. It didn't suit her. She was all sunshine and smiles; anyone who knew her would swear they'd never seen a negative emotion colour her features. Positivity and optimism were what made her who she was.
But there, she looked broken. Saddened. As if some out of control force rushed in the air around her; the breath straight from her lungs. It physically burned. It didn't drive her to strive for better results.
It hurt.
The cliche standard would argue that she was either supposed to rise above, or dominantly stomp around shouting about how unfair it all was. Or both, in either succession. But some - and she, in turn - did neither. She simply was.
She lived with the frustration of it all. Of letting herself and others down.
Word Count: 137
No comments:
Post a Comment