I think there is nothing worse than becoming a habit or a convenient option. Outwardly, everything is as it should be. Nobody will notice. But inside… It feels like I swallowed a big piece and it got stuck somewhere and does not allow me to breathe or speak… So here, no words, breathing with a break and a void that you want to fill, but not like this same event in life. Just not alone? Just not alone? Falling asleep together, thinking about others? Waking up, kissing, imagining another or two in place? Because hthen those others are not available to us? Because those others chose someone but not you? But you didn’t forget… But you didn’t forgive… And you didn’t… And therefore, with those who are nearby, who can, who wants, who is available, who…
In a separate folder on the computer, there are photos of those who touched the soul, hanging on the net, communicating with those who haunt the heart and eyes. Invitations, throwing, torment … And then fall asleep, out of habit, as expected, hugging the one who nevertheless happened to be nearby. Let not the one you dream about, to whom you write, to whom you confess, but close by. But – not one … Breakfast together, then they scattered, forgot, in the evening they remembered, met. A habitual life ritual… Confessions on the net, a hot phone from an overabundance of SMS, and the hope that someone, someday… will appreciate… will come back… will answer… the one who. ..to whom…In the meantime…for now…
We turn a loved one into a part of the apartment, into a piece of furniture, into bedding, kitchen utensils. We don’t even notice how cruel we are. Instead of letting go and giving him a chance at a real life. We give hope. We teach. We bind. It is difficult to refuse a convenient person. Who cares, caresses, warms, feeds. In return, you also care, like, you try as best you can … What about feelings? When you hug and want to live? When you hold your hand, and inside everything explodes? When you fall asleep and are afraid to fall asleep, so as not to disturb the one whose head is on your shoulder in a dream … We wean ourselves from them, from these … Feelings …
We love some, live with others, write to others…
We call ourselves romantics…
We appreciate our Virtue…
We smile, but less often.
My heart hurts more often…
We make the same mistakes.
And how many of them … How many …
How many…