Everytime I think about writing you I send a message to a chat with myself, it’s my way to put my words out without involving you. I don’t want this to be an annoying constant reminder of my feelings for you. I thought about telling you more about this but you don’t you wanna know about it, I am the one that wants to tell you, I am the one that wants to spread his wings and just let it go free, to feel this to the fullest.

I haven’t moved her chair yet, it’s only a chair inside my flat. You could say it’s only a chair any fucking way. In my mind, it’s her chair, the chair in which she sat the whole night and I tried to keep my shit together because honestely she was intoxicating, moving around, taking what she wanted, not really caring what I was thinking…probably feeling like she was in safe ground and for that I am glad.

Time only moves forward. And I cannot believe it. I hear a voice, a voice message, telling me they remember me with such great regards and that I should come by for a short visit, between us sits an entire ocean plus a handful of land and people. But for now I do have my memories of times I spent with them. Seems silly but time doesn’t come back, we might get nostalgic or stuck in the past because of memories.

I don’t know if it’s a warm morning, I just know that I see her and the sun comes in on her body. It has been far too many nights, she will be a little annoyed that I’m watching her sleep but I am too afraid to wake her up. I actually don’t know for how long this memory will hold, but I will try my best to keep it. Just like the memory of me walking with my fingers on her back before she went to sleep or like when she smiled right before we kissed, or even how she smelled after getting up in the morning.

It’s not the first time I think about this and of course there’s always new and different ways of approaching this question. I’m not gonna pretend I know it all or that I’m some kind of philosopher because I’m not, even though I like to read about them and some parts of their work. But I do become constantly obsessed with some questions from time to time, probably some were already answered beautifully by some religion or some philosopher or some poet or some painter but I remain ignorant to that.

It feels rather lonely in this age of social networks, a bunch of stuff that could bring us together actually is growing us apart. We no longer allow for strangers to be intimate and come up with all kinds of crazy set of rules to determine if a person should be able to actually talk to us, even if it’s in a shallow manner over the internet. We wanna cut through the bullshit and get what we want, and not lose any time.