sometimes you have to read.
Life is hard. Yeah everyone knows that. And at times, no, we don’t know how to deal with it. Or maybe we do and just choose to ignore the problem because we don’t like the solution. Trying to figure out what we really want is difficult because the heart is deceitful and ever-changing. The substance of our souls is shown through what we do; our choices on the regular, the songs we listen to when we are alone, the nights we lay on the beach with our closest friends or lovers, how we practice romance or religion and what we expect to get out of that. For me, I pull out my favorite book and let it inspire me. It never lets me down. Reading, like music, is literally speaking words into your soul, telling you how you really feel. We can’t always express our selves, so when someone else tells us what exactly what we savor in life, then we feel.
Pick up a book, read it, and let it read you.
It’s Tuesday morning and I’m suppose to be discussing Twelfth Night with fellow students , but instead here I lay with most intense desires. I wake up in a haze, trying to determine why I woke up so suddenly, so sad. I tried to remember my dreams during the night, then it hit me. I was dreaming all night about you. I don’t mean it to sound creepy or like I’m in love, it has nothing to do with that . But I have remorse built up inside , regret that I don’t know how to shed the weight of from my heart. I pretend, at times, I am angry and hurt by you , but honestly it was self-inflicted. You trusted me and I betrayed you. You pleaded to me and I didnt believe. You loved me and I returned that by ruining what we had. I kick myself in my metaphorical balls every time I think of how I hurt you and the consequences of that. All because I let some outsider tell me how you felt, when it was right before my eyes that you cared more than most.
Everything we’ve been through and I threw that away .
I don’t know why .
Or how.
But please..
What I’m trying to say is I’m sorry. From the deepest part of me I am. The dreams I’ve been having are ones filled with fun, transparency, dreams, morsels of our souls we shared and cherished. I miss the days I rose and thought of you, and lie down again and you think of me. The moments of intimacy, infatuation, a kind of friendship elusive in nature but cherished by both. I only pray the next person in my life like this won’t slip through my fingers.
I’m happy the dreams you shared with me are coming true, and somehow I always knew they would, even if you didn’t.
