Friday Fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Wisoff Fields to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here.
Due to circumstances on the dangerous edge of my control, this week’s offering is a rerun from six and a half years ago.
Click here to hear the author read his words:
Some Days
Some days I exist.
Some days I pass in a fog.
I stumble uncertainly down the broken roads in my mind with only a vague wish that no serious harm befall me.
And yet unaware of my direction or destination and uncaring of my actual arrival.
Some days I just sit, watching the world stumble futilely around me.
Have I always been this way?
I seem to have an indifference to things I should care about.
Like love, pain, family, friends.
Even life itself.
Is there something wrong with me?
Or with everyone else?
Some days I really couldn’t care less.
A great read, I can relate. We all feel like that at times. As has been said…that’s life…
As the other Old Blue Eyes so eloquently put it, “That’s life!”
I have days like these. You described it so well. I like the questions: “Is there something wrong with me? Or with everyone else?” I think it’s the latter. 🙂 Love listening to your story!
I can feel the pain of the writer.
Well, it’s just life…
I get those feelings, sometime I wonder if anyone notices while I walk up the street or else cares.
great post. i can relate.
Great piece of flash prose – with unflinching honesty you capture the heavy, disorienting numbness of apathy perfectly 🙌
Your MC could use a little cheering up:
https://youtu.be/H8ofaO5jkfE?si=p0gMrzP2pYZLk96U
That’s the ‘everyman’ question:
‘Is there something wrong with me?
Or with everyone else?’
You’ve nailed the expression of the feeling that goes with it.
Well, I know there’s nothing wrong with me…
Dear C.E.
Never a bad thing to share a rerun. Very well done and I know how he feels.
Shalom,
Rochelle
Not that anyone’s going to remember it, m’lady!
Poetic. Love it.
Much appreciated.
Sounds depressed.
Laughing.
Yeah, but no.
admirably written ennui
Cheers, Neil