It is never easy to begin something. I think, the hardest part of everything is simply lies in the beginning. To begin. To start. To make a move. Other time speding on planning, assuming, thinking are nothing compare to the actual act. The living proof, the walking evidence.
Just like this entry, failure come and by over my shoulder. Delete, and re-write again till my eyes and thoughts get sore. Often I gave up, and I think I am about to this time. If it is not because the messy sleeping hours, I should have been in my bed, busy dreaming.
If, I stay silent and stare in to nothing, this hands might just type something about you. You, the easiest, the happiest subjects among all. You, that I have not speak for quite a while. How are you doing? How's the essay? I hope you are doing fine. I apologies for not making any effort to say hi although I know you are one text message away.
I think we are doing much better than we were. Remember the last time we spoke? You were as great as the last time we said goodbye in my apartement's parking lot nearly one year ago. Eventhough we are half the world away, living two different lives in two distinct countries which basically competing against one and another, we are never better.
We are never better.
Aren't we suppose to feel great? At least I do. I feel great because I have spent a really long while worrying about nothing but you. As if it was my obligation to acknowledge you. Whilst, we are never bound to anything but good friends.
And about the reason why I am not making any effort to contact you is just because I no longer posses the burning eagerness I used to have long time ago. The undeniable tension to acknowlegde you -- it disappear somewhere along with the youth I had in me.
As far as I am concern here, I am not moving on, but I am letting go; and it feels damn good.
A piece by
:
Fiya Muiz
