Some days, fiction becomes a burden instead of a relief, and reality hits the harder. Today is one of them. I stare through both the actual and the virtual window and feel sick, so sick I should be left alone in quarantine.
But I'm not the one who is contagious, am I? The real sickness is out there. Love hasn't been spread out, stupidity and hate have. In times like these, my mind plays tricks and starts recreating a post-apocalyptic scenario.
On the outside, a pair of eyes injected in blood would probably give you back a weary, deadbeat look. Internally, though, I would be prepping for the end. I would put on my fighting hoodie and my boots. I would be ready.
Seven billion souls that move around the sun
Rolling faster, faster and not a chance to slow down
(...)
I know
Oh, I know you know my pain
I'm hopin' that this world will change
But it just seems the same
I know
Oh, I hope we change
I really thought this world would change
But it seems like the same
Thank you, @mariannewest, for another #freewrite challenge. Today's prompt is quarantine. To learn more and take part go here.