she made lists of things to do, trying to keep busy, to stop her mind wandering dangerous paths,
she could even bear the thought
she had her stomach in permanent tension, hoping for the best, dreading what might turn out to be reality
she couldn't work it out, it made no sense, but yet the feeling was there, solid, aching, making itself felt at all times
she read, she wrote, she did this, did the other, yet her stomach still reminded her, the thought lingering, at the edges of her mind
she wasn't strong enough, she had seen herself in the mirror, wrinkles showing less timidly than before
at times she thought she was going mad, so little sense it made, she needed perspective, but that could only come from them
she was tired, so khasta
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