My friend Blessie’s writing is as beautiful as her soul. Please take a moment to give this a read.
It’s Monday, meaning my weekend has been forced to exit stage left. Tell me I’m not alone in slightly mourning my temporary break from reality. I never understood Temporary.
Temporary was always an univited guest, that friend of friend who cuts you off mid-sentence and changes the topic abruptly. Temporary always brought with it a loud clock, tick-tocking away, reminding me that the ball ends when the clock stikes 12, except conviniently leaving out the part where everything turns back into a pumpkin. How nice.
If you’re anything like me, you’re no stranger to temporary people with their temporary roles, leaving their temporary scents all over the pages of your past.In those times, Temporary stings. Temporary lacks consideration inthe way it waltzes in an out of your life without warning.
Despite it all,I’m learning that Temporary isn’t necessarily all that horrible.
I’m learning that there is beauty…
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