Packing, packing, packing. I should be packing.
I should be packing. I should be cleaning. I should be packing.
Why not? Because I’m too stressed out.
That’s why not.
There’s a finite amount of time, and a mountain load of stuff to deal with.
I don’t even know where to start! Every time I think I’ve made a dent, it’s like it’s just found somewhere else.
I climb over once, just to slide down the other side. When I look up, there’s another mountain waiting for me.
I thought I had some inroads made; I really did.
The one main artery that bisected the space collapsed.
Now that part’s cut off completely.
I hope there wasn’t anything there when it happend. I’ll probably never know.
I honestly didn’t think it would stick. They threatened me repeatedly, but I figured nothing would ever happen.
Until it finally did.
And now they tell me I have to move.
The world is ending in three days.
I’m running in circles. If I had a tail, I’d be chasing it.
I can’t do it! I can’t!
I don’t know where to start. There’s no end in sight.
I wanted to ask for help, but I’m too proud. And now look where it’s gotten me.
A lifetime to sift through. 3 days.
I can’t do it. I can’t.
That’s all they see, I know.
That’s what they think, I know.
They try not to show their disgust, I know.
BUT. I. KNOW.
My world is ending in 3 days. I have to move.
I am paralyzed; overwhelmed; defeated.
Because of it. That stuff.
Maybe more will collapse and bury me beneath; cocooned in memories.
I can’t do it. I can’t leave. I won’t leave.
They won’t find me, and it won’t matter.
I see my goal. I hope it shifts. Here it comes; as if on cue.
Ahhhh. I’m safe.
But I can’t breathe-
The prompt for Trifextra’s week 23 is “the world will end in three days.”
Leave me a comment to let me know what you think I’m talking about!
PS- edtited to share that this is fiction. I, personally, am not packing. But I am pretty sure that if I only had three days to pack and move, I might well be feeling all this.
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