yellow grass

I suppose cliches happen for a reason.

Like they are relateable.  Like they happen time and time again.

So here I am being predictable and cliche, writing about grass being green. Usually when it is on the other side.

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Once it is gone, I miss it. For years, it was watching over my shoulder…pushing me to pull me closer. And I resented it. I was fearful of it. I repeatedly held back, pushing it away. And now, all I want in the world is to hold it so tight and never let it go.

And now that it is gone I miss it. I only appreciate it now that it is gone. What a damn cliche.

“The reason that clichés become clichés is that they are the hammers and screwdrivers in the toolbox of communication.”

Terry Pratchett, Guards! Guards!

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