• Impulse

    by  • November 21, 2011 • * Safe for Work *, Lost Love • 0 Comments

    I keep opening and closing my Word document, indecisive about what to say, or if anything should be said at all. I don’t want to write another letter to you, because they all sound the same. But maybe that’s because nothing has really changed within my ribcage and that’s the origin of most of my words. I may find different ways of saying it and use different images to portray it, but I’m a writer; that’s what I do. I find different ways and perspectives of saying the same thing. But tonight, I’m at a loss for words. The war inside my mind continues to wage fiercely, and that’s always a sign I’m about to do something impulsive a.k.a something stupid.

    But I miss your love, girl. I miss everything about you, and I’d gladly give up everything I have for another day with you. I guess that’s not really saying much, though, because this past year has nearly taken everything away from me and left only scraps. It has now been over two months since I last heard from you. Back then, I once again told myself this was permanent; that it was for the best. And once again I’m double guessing myself, telling myself that I just want to talk to you again, because maybe you will be able to give me that which I so desperately long for, but then my mind brings me back to reality and I hit the “End” button on my phone.

    Maybe this IS meant to be permanent and I’ve already spoken to you for the last time. Why does that thought scare me? Because I cannot fathom how something that used to be so important to me can so suddenly become obsolete and vacant.

    The answer will always lie at the shoreline, and it will forever remain the same.


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