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Description
Dear Conscience,
She went to the city yesterday, on her own might I add. A concept that she didn't really like to begin with. She never did like shopping on her own; it was supposed to be a girly thing to do with friends.
But alas, she got the 1pm train to the big gritty smoke and eventually found herself in the homely surroundings of a small book store with a café inside.

This place was like a second home to her Conscience, it was glorious.

She defines a home as somewhere you can snuggle up and feel comfortable in your own company. This place does that for her. It is a recipe for happiness:

1 Cup of cinnamon cappuccino,
1 Chicken Caesar bagel on a delicate china plate,
1 soft sofa,
3 soft pillows,
1 warm heater above you,
2 good books.
Mix together in a large mixing bowl with the scent of newly pressed books added in for effect and leave to bake for 2 hours before removing.

Watching her surroundings made her think a lot about the events of the past few days. She hasn't really been thinking straight, has she Conscience?

No…

I know that, you know that, it's just she didn't until yesterday.

A lot of things have clouded her judgement. Love. Hate. Fear. Excitement. Guilt.
She found herself thinking about him again.
This happens a lot lately. She thought she knew exactly what to expect from this whole thing, exactly what way to feel, what way to think, what way to handle it. She was in control of it all.

Or so she thought.

It wasn't until she was sitting with that coffee in her hand, the cup being hot against her hand and almost unbearable to the touch that she realised: She really wasn't in control.
She had grown attached, which was something she had fought desperately not to do because she knew it would only be harder to come back to reality if she did.
And now…
Now she must slowly cut away at the stitches that are attaching her to him, however much she doesn't want to - because she has to, because it's the right thing to do.

Through her thoughts, Conscience, she realised what her personal deadly sin was. Most thought it was Lust. She thought it was for a long time too. But it's not…
Jealously, envy...
Invidia becomes her.

It scares her a little. Sometimes she gets so jealous that she makes her stomach feel ill with repulsion. What has she really to be jealous about??
I don't even think she knows.

She doesn't like the thought of other people laying their hands, their fingers - their lips - on her things, things that used to be hers and are now not, or things she doesn't own but wish she did.
She has no right to think this way Conscience but she can't help it. She knows it's wrong, but she likes it, she enjoys it, she craves it, she lusts for it. Even the thought of burning for an eternity in hell isn't swaying her to stop, even though she must.

Perhaps she should listen to her own advice:
"Don't be jealous...that kinda shit can send you to hell...It's one of the 7 deadly sins for a REASON!"

She's so bold in her comments, so hypocritical in her views. Maybe she is voicing it to stop other people from falling into the pit that she has?

Pointless.

She didn't stay long in the big smoke. It was only 5:30pm when she left the comforts of her second home, after baking for 2 hours in solitude, tiptoeing back out into the cold air of the small city with the big heart.

Walking back towards the train station, she passed the city hall. It was beautiful. The winter lights are up now Conscience, have you seen them? They looked like little droplets of frozen rain dripping off the leafless trees.

When she breathed in and she felt the ice cold air hit the back of her throat, it reminded her of her weekend in Paris last November.
It was freezing but she loved it. She craves travel Conscience, she loves culture. She's not supposed to stay in this country…not forever. Not when there is so much out there to see.
This thought depressed her a little. She has so many plans made out, so many things she wants to see but no one to share the experience with. No one who shares her interests, no one who is on the same soggy page as she is.

Maybe that's a good thing. No one to stop her from going away.
It doesn't feel that way now though Conscience.

She didn't think she would be alone this Christmas either. She thought that she would finally have a festive holiday where she could hold out her hand and have it grasped to keep it warm in the cold.
I guess gloves will have to do her again this year.

Description
Dear Conscience,
She went to the city yesterday, on her own might I add. A concept that she didn't really like to begin with. She never did like shopping on her own; it was supposed to be a girly thing to do with friends.
But alas, she got the 1pm train to the big gritty smoke and eventually found herself in the homely surroundings of a small book store with a café inside.

This place was like a second home to her Conscience, it was glorious.

She defines a home as somewhere you can snuggle up and feel comfortable in your own company. This place does that for her. It is a recipe for happiness:

1 Cup of cinnamon cappuccino,
1 Chicken Caesar bagel on a delicate china plate,
1 soft sofa,
3 soft pillows,
1 warm heater above you,
2 good books.
Mix together in a large mixing bowl with the scent of newly pressed books added in for effect and leave to bake for 2 hours before removing.

Watching her surroundings made her think a lot about the events of the past few days. She hasn't really been thinking straight, has she Conscience?

No…

I know that, you know that, it's just she didn't until yesterday.

A lot of things have clouded her judgement. Love. Hate. Fear. Excitement. Guilt.
She found herself thinking about him again.
This happens a lot lately. She thought she knew exactly what to expect from this whole thing, exactly what way to feel, what way to think, what way to handle it. She was in control of it all.

Or so she thought.

It wasn't until she was sitting with that coffee in her hand, the cup being hot against her hand and almost unbearable to the touch that she realised: She really wasn't in control.
She had grown attached, which was something she had fought desperately not to do because she knew it would only be harder to come back to reality if she did.
And now…
Now she must slowly cut away at the stitches that are attaching her to him, however much she doesn't want to - because she has to, because it's the right thing to do.

Through her thoughts, Conscience, she realised what her personal deadly sin was. Most thought it was Lust. She thought it was for a long time too. But it's not…
Jealously, envy...
Invidia becomes her.

It scares her a little. Sometimes she gets so jealous that she makes her stomach feel ill with repulsion. What has she really to be jealous about??
I don't even think she knows.

She doesn't like the thought of other people laying their hands, their fingers - their lips - on her things, things that used to be hers and are now not, or things she doesn't own but wish she did.
She has no right to think this way Conscience but she can't help it. She knows it's wrong, but she likes it, she enjoys it, she craves it, she lusts for it. Even the thought of burning for an eternity in hell isn't swaying her to stop, even though she must.

Perhaps she should listen to her own advice:
"Don't be jealous...that kinda shit can send you to hell...It's one of the 7 deadly sins for a REASON!"

She's so bold in her comments, so hypocritical in her views. Maybe she is voicing it to stop other people from falling into the pit that she has?

Pointless.

She didn't stay long in the big smoke. It was only 5:30pm when she left the comforts of her second home, after baking for 2 hours in solitude, tiptoeing back out into the cold air of the small city with the big heart.

Walking back towards the train station, she passed the city hall. It was beautiful. The winter lights are up now Conscience, have you seen them? They looked like little droplets of frozen rain dripping off the leafless trees.

When she breathed in and she felt the ice cold air hit the back of her throat, it reminded her of her weekend in Paris last November.
It was freezing but she loved it. She craves travel Conscience, she loves culture. She's not supposed to stay in this country…not forever. Not when there is so much out there to see.
This thought depressed her a little. She has so many plans made out, so many things she wants to see but no one to share the experience with. No one who shares her interests, no one who is on the same soggy page as she is.

Maybe that's a good thing. No one to stop her from going away.
It doesn't feel that way now though Conscience.

She didn't think she would be alone this Christmas either. She thought that she would finally have a festive holiday where she could hold out her hand and have it grasped to keep it warm in the cold.
I guess gloves will have to do her again this year.