There is that little voice in my head. The one I listen to only half the time. When I do listen to it and things turn out half way decent, it creeps me out.
The same voice that gets me thinking about someone only to have the phone ring and it’s them.
That little voice…what if that’s the god within us as some believe? If it is, now I know why I am screwed. Too much cussing under my breath. Plus, all that wondering if God is hard of hearing, or is it just me. That, cannot be a good thing.
She is not one to say it often. I’m not sure why that is. Maybe she doesn’t know how, never learned how. Maybe she’s just not good at it.
My mom has been on her own, for the most part since she was thirteen. Her mom died one morning as she was readying her daughters for school.
I’m thinking since then, she has had issues with god / creator for letting such a catastrope befall her and her younger sister.
Some things trickle down, whether it was meant to or not.
I am no good at love. Most times leave me feeling like a lunatic, if not acting like one.
But, I keep an open heart. Even so, “I don’t know why I was surprised every time love started or ended.” I guess in a cock-eyed sorta of way, I believe in love.
Over at dVerse Poets Pub the prompt is to write prose (keeping it tight at no more than 144 words) and to include the line below:-
“I don’t know why I was surprised every time love started or ended.”