she had the weight of the world on her shoulders |
it’s my cross to bear, she said, with roll of her eye which tried to convey not only that no one else could understand, but that she was waiting, with bated breath for someone to ask her about it so that she could shake her head meaningfully, and then not tell, because she couldn’t want to burden anyone else with the weight of the world which had fallen on her shoulders and she was bearing up, masterfully, against all odds, but would appreciate someone having the mercy to press, so that she could share just exactly what her cross was, and how patient she was to bear it so gracefully and silently, because she wasn’t one to talk about her problems, unless someone hinted by a word, or a glance, or a subtle movement that caught her eye across a crowded room at which she would share, all the while sighing at the pain that no one could understand, and that she bore, silent and alone. Prompt for: Jan 13, 2016 ▼ |