How do you handle stress? - for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
justprompts
Mar. 24th, 2009 04:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
a_time_slipThis wasn't supposed to be happening.
Right now, she sat at a table in the dining room of her hostel with a piece of paper and pencil in front of her. There was an apartment- but she couldn't move in until the weekend at the earliest, so for now she slept on a cot in a shared room and all of her belongings fit in a duffel bag stored in a locker.
Absentmindedly picking up her pencil, she draws a glyph on the page that has come to represent herself. The symbols were nothing but something she started doing as a child, a secret code to keep the adults from prying into her thoughts. She looked at it, and began writing a long string of them, explaining what she thought and felt in a way that no one but her could understand.
She started to think of what happened in the past few weeks, and the symbols began to turn into numbers. They were equations, really. Concentrating on them cleared her mind of guns, and broken transport devices and friends that were in the hospital. With the equations she could find the limit, unless it didn't exist.
Half a page of formulas later she realized that her equations had too many variables. There were too many things for her to pick from, too many choices to make- frustrated, she turned the paper over, and rewrote the equation for each variable.
As the numbers were printed on the page, her thoughts began to order a little at a time. Eventually, she knew that it would be okay. All of these problems would get solved. The number of variables was finite, and each of the formulas was signed by a different glyph.
When she was done, the papers were folded and stuffed in a pocket of her duffel bag. Life was never as bad as she felt it to be.
Muse: Janie Taylor
Wordcount: 323
Right now, she sat at a table in the dining room of her hostel with a piece of paper and pencil in front of her. There was an apartment- but she couldn't move in until the weekend at the earliest, so for now she slept on a cot in a shared room and all of her belongings fit in a duffel bag stored in a locker.
Absentmindedly picking up her pencil, she draws a glyph on the page that has come to represent herself. The symbols were nothing but something she started doing as a child, a secret code to keep the adults from prying into her thoughts. She looked at it, and began writing a long string of them, explaining what she thought and felt in a way that no one but her could understand.
She started to think of what happened in the past few weeks, and the symbols began to turn into numbers. They were equations, really. Concentrating on them cleared her mind of guns, and broken transport devices and friends that were in the hospital. With the equations she could find the limit, unless it didn't exist.
Half a page of formulas later she realized that her equations had too many variables. There were too many things for her to pick from, too many choices to make- frustrated, she turned the paper over, and rewrote the equation for each variable.
As the numbers were printed on the page, her thoughts began to order a little at a time. Eventually, she knew that it would be okay. All of these problems would get solved. The number of variables was finite, and each of the formulas was signed by a different glyph.
When she was done, the papers were folded and stuffed in a pocket of her duffel bag. Life was never as bad as she felt it to be.
Muse: Janie Taylor
Wordcount: 323