Flash Fiction, Short story

The Pursuit of finding a Soulmate #2

Just a reminder to readers, this is fiction.

Log 2. Hypocrisy,

Hey guys!

The greeting is rhetorical by the way. I know I don’t have an audience. If anyone does end up reading this in the future, I’ll probably be rolling around in my grave. Yep definitely 6ft under.

I forgot I started this thing to be honest. I wanted to make a place to put these useless thoughts and feelings of mine and I thought, ‘hey why don’t you start a diary’. I’ve never tried to make these things before, it just seemed a waste of time.  Yet now that I’m old I see the increasing value in a diary, it’s a place to vent.

The frustrations of adulthood make me want to jump straight in front of a car sometimes, I mean I wouldn’t do that (probably- don’t tempt me), but with all the problems piling up lately I need a place to put all these feelings or I might explode.

Writing these things is a thousand times better than talking to people. People can be so annoying, they always want something from you whether that be your attention, your time, your love, your energy. They can be angered by even the smallest thing you do, even if you didn’t intend to anger them. Being around people is like walking on egg shells. People are just so fragile. I hate dealing with them.

Even as I write this in my usual background of Starbucks I see all these people socialising with one another and just the sight of those couples, colleagues or friends just give me such a migraine.

Funny enough I feel kind of lonely, like I’m missing out. I guess I’m a hypocrite.

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Flash Fiction, Short story

The Pursuit of finding a Soulmate #1

I’ve been having writers block lately. So in the process of trying to emerge from this writers block I began writing this Mini-series called ‘The Pursuit of finding a soulmate’. Enjoy.

Log 1. Day whatever

It’s a dreary October morning. The weather report claimed there would be clear skies and a little bit of sun, the weather report lied. As I write rain is sliding down the clear windows and I see people running in panic, reaching for their umbrellas, and shivering whilst I drink my Latte in Starbucks.

I sit on my little stool, typing this dumb diary and slurp my latte loudly, causing a few bemused or aggravated stares my way, but I don’t care.

My insomnia is getting worse. I didn’t sleep a wink last night because I couldn’t stop thinking about him, that man I ran into the other night, he was gorgeous. Well, there are also those other concerns that keep me awake at night, but when I wasn’t having my panic attacks I was squealing into my pillow thinking about that charming smile.

I wonder if we’ll ever hold hands together, maybe we’ll kiss, perhaps falling into each other’s sweet embrace. We would know each other better than we know ourselves, a love that would never wear out as time passes.

Who am I kidding. He probably doesn’t even remember my name.

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