(This post goes out for my two homes, and their constituent fractions - the one I never thought I could have, and the one I never thought I'd still want.)
It struck you as mere odd at
first, but the vigor is overpowering. And overwhelmed by it all, you keep
going, not knowing how to terminate the drab ennui. Anxious even. What else can there be? When you read, when you write, when you talk, when
you sense, and when you rediscover. Fancy a few (back to back) feel-good
movies, background jazz score (still finding a way to settle you down through
the hushed, somehow), and a pile of unread books waiting to be caressed. Exotic
statements forming in your not-so-dormant thought process. The fervent
expressions and you have gotten back together, who would've imagined. (*smirk*) Well, you were always the artsy,
ethereal type, weren't you? Cold heart and dreamy soul in its decided place. (*shrug*) And
there might be new strangers to be befriended. New exceptions you can try to
endure. You consider that you might have found yourself – in love, at peace, in
good humor - all over again. Not waiting endlessly, not letting deep, dark
regret penetrate the crevices of primary emotion, that you realise you've
fought to defend in vain. 'You don’t want what you can’t have anymore.' That too
has passed. The change is more apparent than ever. You suffice. A few battles won for the
greater good (always, always), but is the war over?
In this utter state of
bewildering amusement, you find yourself anew.
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