Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • I've been slipping off my "pedestal" for a long time now and only just realized it when I read your story, Leilani. And I haven't even been chewing at things for as long as you have. Barely eight years.

    I wake up everyday, go about my daily household chores like a robot, pre-programmed to cook, clean, wash and sweep.

    Then, I sit down at my computer and start the day's work, all the while mindful of the lunch cooking on the stove. Sometimes, I give up and walk around when it gets too hot because there's no electricity. (I wrote about the power problem in another story "How's the Weather".)

    Every day at the same time, in the same manner, I perform the same set of motions. House chores, work, social networking, more chores. Sometimes, I have to go out when someone needs me to accompany them (usually one of my younger sisters) but they know I don't enjoy it much. They say you would rather spend time in front of your computer then go out anywhere. I wonder why. I just don't enjoy it much anymore.

    I feel old. Like I've lived a thousand years and a hundred lives and am now just too tired to go on anymore.

    Once, I was described in words like vivacious, lively, fun-loving etc. But now, even the laugh that used to define me in my days living in a university hostel is no more the same.

    Perhaps, if I can put my finger on that exact moment when I began to slip, I can stop my decline.

    Perhaps.


    (Image courtesy of c0ug on DeviantArt)
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.