Black bird.

There is a class tonight. And I don’t want to see faces around me. I don’t feel like doing what human beings need to do, analyse each other’s behaviour and respond. I feel lost in a sea of faces. Waiting a few steps away from the entrance of the building, sadness engulfing my mind. It’s like every move, step, breath, leaves a mark behind that can be seen for only a second. This momentary imprint saps me of my strength.

A bird taps its tiny feet next to me, around me. Black bird, like my thoughts. It looks up, one eye meeting my gaze. “Can you really exorcise your demons by writing about them?”, it muses. How can I.

The bird leaves. Blackness stays. No class tonight. No room with faces and the danger of being looked at and recognised for what I feel inside.

About L. Woolf

Sometimes the wolf and the lamb are friends, living in peace drinking (mostly cider). But there are those times when that balance is ignored. When that battle is on, a new blog post will magically appear. And pop corn. While all this is transpiring inside my head, in the outside world I am a student of Psychology with a particular interest in Neuro-psychology (I always wanted to know what made things tick). Helping people out there and listening to their life stories helps me live through and with the battle raging inside me. So this won't only be about me. This will be thoughts and stories of us all. View all posts by L. Woolf

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