Maybe this is it. Maybe this is where we are supposed to be. The cosmos grows, the oceans shift, and time keeps speeding by as always. But here I stand, I remain. It’s a bit more quiet than usual, but perhaps that’s how it should be. I stand still for you. I grow, I shift a little side to side nervously, probably tapping my fingers on the table, and I keep speeding on by but for some reason, for you, I stand still. I force a smile on my face but you already know that deep in my heart there is a single tear and it won’t go away. Maybe just maybe there is a reason for all this. I haven’t found the reason yet. Maybe that reason is staring at me, perhaps laughing thinking “why can’t you just move on, why can’t you just grow up already and let it all go? Let yourself flow like water and don’t think so much about her.” Yeah, it’s always been about her. Writing that last sentence seems to put a smile on my face after I wrote it down. No matter how hard I try I just can’t shake those feelings, those deep feelings for her. I ask myself “why am I like this?” Eventually I move on from the question but I realize I never find the answer. Maybe finding the answer is not important. Maybe just asking the question is all we need to do. And once the question is asked, the answer will just hit you one day, over the head, violently, perhaps leaving you with a concussion. Maybe the answer hits you so hard you fall into a coma, and in that coma you dream about her, because you could never stop thinking about her qualities, about how wonderful she is, about how creative and inspiring she is to you, how no one else seems to notice just how special she is, yet she says it over and over again, that she's nothing special. But she is, she is to you. And that's all that matters. I’ll keep creating, and I’ll keep writing and maybe just maybe life will give me a wonderful gift, the gift of me being able to put a smile on your face like I was able to do a long time ago.
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