Three Fourteen Two Thousand Thirteen

I noticed myself staring at this monitor for hours now. So I spread my fingers over the keyboard and looked at each of them for no reason. Perhaps I wasn’t really staring at the monitor. I was thinking deep thoughts, a lot of them. It’s been days now that I’ve been a little preoccupied. I thought for these days I haven’t really been myself. It’s an odd atmosphere. Figuratively, I feel like I’ve lost a big refuge and I find myself walking adrift cold mist. I barely see anything at the moment. All I know is that there is this tension inside of me. I’m not scared, but I’m confused. So confused that everything slowly starts to disappear.

As I remain in a phase full of ambiguity, I continue to endure this pain. It’s not tolerating agony, it’s hoping that time will eventually lead me back to me. Is it even possible to find my way back when I can’t even decipher how I got here? Things have started to change. The leaves of trees have gone dry as I walked past my favorite greens. The nights have grown colder and clouds of smoke have taken over. Its deafening silence has carved this mark in my conscience. The scar, surprisingly visible, and the circumstance, caustic, that it has taken us aback like in a dream I see him ten feet away from me. And then I watch him fade.

Nothing is going to happen if I keep staring at the screen like I’m waiting for something. If my thoughts are somewhere else then I should just go to it and seek answers. The glitch is still there. I can tell from my eyes staring blankly at the mirror. It’s awkwardly unsettling to be a stranger to someone you have shared so much with. Even more so to be unknown to yourself. Certainly, moving on is not the simplest thing to do on earth. Erase every single memory and let them all fade away with him. Only then will it be easier to wake up like nothing happened.

 
Someone told me, love is not a battle between you and what you can take. It’s no game you gotta fight to win. It’s the armor, the shield, the blanket you wrap around someone. To me, it’s a seed hidden inside every man’s heart. Once you find it within you let it grow, you nourish it. Love is free. It dies only if you let it. The love of a man is not made only for himself. It is useless when it is kept back. But love is not war. It is not hate. It is a bond. It’s not love’s fault if you give up the chaos, because love is supposed to be the refuge. Love is the shelter, not the brawl.