To move forward in this cycle of life. See the tiny details in life. Mourn. Groan. Giggle. Laugh. Smile. Strive!
A low voice, a phone call, it distraught me so much that for some reason I knew where he lives. So I ran there with all I could, out of breath.
Then I reached his place. I know of his silver hair, I know his silhouette, but I don't know him, I can picture his head down, looking down at me from the other side of the door.
I banged the door, but he refused to open.
I fell back into the loop. The vacuum abys that I wasn't supposed to submit to. I guess I don't write when I'm happy. Happy would be a stretch, I don't write when I am busy. And busy is good. It keeps me occupied, it keeps me going. From one thing on to the next. Having plans and daily routine makes my life much more balanced and breathable.
But that's not the case anymore.
