I wish I could capture this moment for you. For us. For the future. For the times when I’ve gone back to words I wrote when in the thick of things and how they’ve saved me. They have reminded me that i’ve been here before. And I made it out alive.
But I feel this lump in my throat. It refuses to barge. Despite me trying to cry it out. It wants to be acknowledged. And held for a while. So maybe I can’t write as well.
It reminds me of this person I miss. She’s been appearing in my dreams. And for the first time in my life, she seems happy in those dreams. It could be my imagination. It could be my fantasy. That she is alive. Wherever she is, and happy.
But isn’t it weird, that in my waking moments I’ll worry about her. Whether she’s doing okay. Whether I should find out. But when I sleep, those worries disappear. And I see her smile.
There are times like this when I don’t know what to do with myself to get myself back up. But by now I know the cycle. It’s like the inner me just wants attention. So I’ll run around, take her for dates. Sneak in there a surprise. At first she’ll pretend to be unimpressed. But then I’ll win her over eventually. And live happily ever after, not.
Maybe life is made up of those cycles. Like how I just never get used to how pretty sunsets are. Or how grand and calming the ocean is. Maybe it’s all a cycle.
I once read somewhere, what if God was a child? You know the way kids can do the same thing over and over again, and still find it so amusing? Given how flowers, the sun and other things make us happy each time we see them, maybe whoever created them or the force behind it, used to come each day, make a sunrise and a sunset, then get so excited that they would keep on doing this each day and getting so damn amused while at it each time. Maybe.
For now, I have that feeling that earth usually has after it rains. That smell. That freshness. Nothing has sprouted yet. But you know it will. It may require a few more bouts of rain, but eventually it will sprout.