The room was empty, because of the white-painted walls it felt like reaching out for heaven.
Fresh snow that covered the earth with an ice-cold blanket, with the comfort that it held by being so clean with no mistakes yet marked by footprints or skid marks.
Nothing had the chance to ruin it yet.
As I entered the room, it felt like a safe place to start over, to clear my thoughts and feel peace for a silent moment. Time to gather my thoughts and sort things out, but then.
I threw up the words without thinking, let the words slip over my lips without any control over my tongue. At that moment there was no existence of a conscience, I wasn’t aware that the clock was still ticking, minutes passed by and it was already too late to take it back; the words hit the floorboard before I could stop them, packed the room with an intense silence. I realized then what I did, what I said, and It felt like the clock had stopped ticking after my conscience struck. Nauseating after saying the things that I should have kept to myself.
“The feeling or fact of being affected with nausea or vomiting.”
The white-painted room that made you feel like you were reaching out for heaven, seemed Like fresh snow that covered the earth with an ice-cold blanket, with the comfort that Continue reading