It feels like eternity since my hands tapped on the keyboard frantically, trying to jot down every thought that flows through my brain magically and every time I find myself short of time, paper or enthusiasm.
The ray of hope and happiness seems to have disappeared, my aims merely thoughts that failed to materialize. It's been long since I read or came across something that would move me. Something that goes beyond dead movie stars and flying men. Am I amazed? Yes. Does it leave a lasting impact on me? Absolutely not. And yet we spend so much time sobbing over irrelevant atrocities and rejoicing over outrageous theatricals.
The cramps are making their way up from my feet to my legs, I'm too tired to blink but my fingers are relentless. How I've missed unloading, I hope you don't feel used.
It feels good to have found something that will welcome me when I'm tired and stressed out. Something that won't complain when I sometimes find myself unable to communicate. Something that makes me stay awake at night despite the creeping fatigue engulfing my body. I guess it's called passion. That makes me wonder if it's what I took you to be and I feel a shiver crawling down my neck.
I hate the unwanted, uninvited shivers that are often accompanied with uncomfortable and less remembered memories. I shouldn't have spoken of you today, I shouldn't have spoken to you that way yesterday. But what use is repentance without redemption and you left me no choice. Rather I left you with no option.
And the letter you wrote to me I still carry it around more out of habit than attachment. And when my trembling hands manage to yank out the crumpled paper from beneath the crisp notes, I often find myself wondering. Is it just the moment that makes us say things and do them, and when the moment has passed each seems to be forgotten?
If it's so and your love for that moment is justified forgotten and your subsequent hate forgiven. Then so shall my hate for you be forgotten and infinite love forgiven....
