I vaguely remember the feeling any more. My fingers traced the outer lines of the round table as my head was pressed against the cold wooden complexion. My hair had the stench of cigarettes and burned grass. And it felt like not caring and I remember how I never wanted to care again...
His name was Jack, or was is Liam,or Matthew? I forgot. My brain has created this very special function of its own. It erases all the traces of heartbreak that could me hinder me...more.
It was a full moon yesterday. As I traced the tender radiance down to my skin I stopped feeling that constant blunt feeling of being lost. It happens every time. The moon heals me. And then it's gone.
Some cheesy romantic would probably conclude I am addicted to being adored. Fools!Those are the exact same people that started the whole singletons vs couples intolerance. But I tend to stray far away from from relationship-based arguments. At times I clearly see just how self-absorbed I am. Maybe it's wrong, yet I don't feel like changing myself. That is the worst kind of treachery. I don't mind being alone. Still I admit what I really adore is the feeling of being found, becoming a milestone in someone's path to happiness. Yes, being meaningful. That is why my brain chooses to forget when another fellow traveller moves away from me.
That night I felt like a mere stop along somebody's way. And let us be honest... We all want to be someone's final destination. I now leave you with the hard part of pondering upon these reflections. Or maybe your brain will choose to leave them in the darkness of ignorance. I will be waiting for the next full moon. And hopefully we will cross paths some day...
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