Looking At Life Being Lived
But never experiencing it myself
I live in a bubble!
Why? Because I was born with every allergy under the sun. Allergic to sunlight, allergic to dust, allergic to pollen, allergic to carbon dioxide — well you get the gist.
So, I spend my days in my sterile bedroom and I’m never more thankful than I am to have a large picture window.
Through this window I get to watch life being lived, although I never get to experience myself.
I watch my little brother kick the ball, my neighbour prune her roses, a pretty little girl walk her dog.
I live vicariously through others.
I was challenged by Jessica's Quill (Medium Writer) to write a drabble of the word 'window'.
Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.
If you enjoy this piece, you may enjoy this one too.
Please visit my website if you'd like more information on my newly published book, Battle Angel : The Ultimate She Warrior.
Originally published on Medium
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
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Olga's Monologue
I must say dear sir, you arresting me in these old, rusty chains, surrounding me in your metallic vehicle just adds up to the coldness of this winter even more. I cannot deny that I am still in shock of what you did to me days ago, in a sudden action you grounded me against the floors of my own house. Why did you do it exactly? It was made known to me that I have committed treason, but in what ways that I did? My dear country, my Russia is not whom I recognize. What are the city’s new names again? Petrograd or Leningrad? You make too much of a commotion over a city’s name. You know, no matter how many times you changed its name you could always recognize her, my dear Saint Petersburg. How long has it been since it started? It was about five or six years now. The Tsardom was no more, and somehow this strange creature of a man was already in charge. I do not know what he stands for, all I could remember is a poster of him that says “for the people”. That’s what he claims he is for, yet so many people starving and lying on the streets? Everyone that I have known is suddenly disappearing, I never saw them again. The emperor is dead, and so is his family. What is this country I am living in? This is not the same pavements I walk into towards work. These are not the same people I greet daily.
By Roz Julian M. Pescador6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (4)
And oh, the long-suffering longing such isolation entails.
I know that this is just a story but if I can meet his parents, I'd give them a piece of my mind for bringing him into this world only for him to live it like this!
How sad and yet beautiful.
Fabulous!!! Loved your microfiction story!!!💕❤️❤️