I have nothing to share with you, as nothing has happened to me except life— all at once. Everything seems unreal, happening in real time. Even the pauses have nothing to convey. This time, my dear, the feelings are falling short. I am struggling to be real. I have stopped considering you and me as we. But I have not forgotten to pray for you and wish for you to be determined, unlike me. I am standing before a blank page, neither finding the ink nor the ideas to fill it. Does this happen to everyone?
Where can I look without losing sight? What can I say without hiding the essence? How can I stand without falling, and when should I shed everything without losing anything? These questions are pushing me somewhere, but not towards you. Life is happening, and I have yet to find what to do.
~A
...
ReplyDelete