Now you’re in pain, and I can’t reach you—not by phone, not at work, not through messages, not face to face. It feels like you cleared away the dust but swept me off with the wind.
I’m hurting, and I keep hearing you say, “There’s no scenario without pain anymore.”You were so wise. Should we add that to the list? Do we even still have a list?
Maybe I should call you “genius”—you always loved that, and I can find it on the list.
Maybe I should call you “genius”—you always loved that, and I can find it on the list.
I’m full of sorrow.
Empty.
Collecting dust, longing for you to return.
Empty.
Collecting dust, longing for you to return.
What's the point of being loud if you're not here? When you cannot witness my love overflowing?
"It's always weird not having you around", you said once.
If these words I'm writing could reach you, maybe you'd be surprised by how much I remember.
I remember it all.
Was never fond of chasing reasons for happiness. Not in the early mornings.
Not at work. Not in life, in general.
But knowing I'd share not just breakfast, but the same air as you, that made my heart full.
I found a reason.
In a hopeless place.