To lose someone you love is to alter your life forever. You don’t get over it because ‘it’ is the person you loved. The pain stops, there are new people but the gap never closes. How could it? The particularness of someone who mattered enough to grieve over it is not made anodyne by death. The hole in my heart is in the shape of you and no-one else can fit it. Why would I want them to?
Written On The Body
I seem to have let this space wither away. Updating sporadically via mobile kinda keeps it alive, but just barely, methinks. Time is of the essence indeed, and it is time itself that I seem to be lacking these days. Or to be more specific, time during which I am productive – I’m shamefully admitting that on the rare days that I have to myself, I choose to just shut myself out from the world, literally draw the curtains of the windows close and just hole up within four walls for the entire day or two.
I hardly even pen any fleeting thoughts down these days; I’d choose to just close my eyes & sleep everything away instead.
How is it that one is able to lose their vigor for life so easily?
Or a better question would be – how does one get back that intensity to wake up in the mornings & LIVE each day to its maximum potential?