It had been a very long time since she had been happy. She wasn’t even certain if she knew what the word meant anymore. With a sigh she crumpled the paper in front of her and tossed it to the side. A few pen strokes were visible despite the ball the paper was in the shape of.
Happiness is just a word,
A sense of self that I lack
Something I wish to get back.
Yet I lack the strength
To cross the depths of the ford
And find my way forward.
Everything going by so fast!
Xylophones playing ‘Flight of the Bumblebee’ in my head.
How am I still moving?
A little bit more time, maybe?
Useless is how I feel
Sitting here and unable to move about.
Tell me that this will pass soon?
I am more than ready for the next day to start
Or for the next phase in my life to begin.
Now would be a great time for life to slow down for just a moment.
“I am old, Gandalf. I don’t look it, but I am beginning to feel it in my heart of hearts. Well-preserved indeed! Why, I feel all thin, sort of stretched, if you know what I mean: like butter that has been scraped over too much bread. That can’t be right. I need a change, or something.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings