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Slighted

Someday someone will say the right words to pull me out of this depression.
I’ll turn on my computer and there they will be.
It will be as a love note left just for me.
The words will be gentle, forgiving, and from the right person at the right time. I will smile and my heart will leap for joy from my chest.
I’ll sleep better.
My spirit will desire to run in a meadow of tall flowers chasing butterflies.
Old aches will disappear like a shot of Cortizone to the joint.
All will be forgiven and casual, friendly conversation and lighthearted bantering will return, seamlessly, as if the low moment were but a hiccup in the smooth road of time.

For now I wait and mope around, content in my bathrobe and slippers to let idle chatter drift by me with a fake smile. A smile I hope will turn into the genuine peace and happiness I seek. I won’t venture out of my bathrobe into the mainstream again until the right words are showered over me with abundance. Then fresh, anew, I will emerge and take on the world.

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