your face is on my news feed.
that's weird, because i've unsubscribed from your posts, because every time i see your face my heart stops for a split second. the heavy hopeless wrench comes back in a hint. that's funny, because i am completely over you. one and a half years since. i don't miss you anymore, the memories don't bring back any feelings whatsoever, i can talk about it with no emotional attachment. and yet the hint of a wrench, and i think of a post i wrote in the past about what it means to cry. [link]
one and a half years and i have completely moved on and it seems like such a distant past but this sudden split-second tug of the heart reminds me that the descent into that endless pit is right here, right here, just a paper-thin wall away. it's a little scary to realise that the past is still just beyond your eyelids. it can become a reality again, snap, just like that.
i don't understand.
on a side note, i love beautiful writing. When you read something poetic and beautiful it gives you this familiar tug. your heart opens up in a gaping yawn and it longs for an embrace. this is to my friends who write, those whose words are so beautifully strung that i stare at the screen and read the same things through again and again, trying to pick at the woven magic within, memorising the fabric and flow - like how you'd memorise every little feature and flaw of a lover, with your eyes taking in every detail, your hands reading texture like braille. i love beauty and these people i know, they wield the tool of words, letters, markings on a screen; it's amazing how they can weave these letters together to connect with you through cyberspace and you're years and countries apart from this text but you feel her tears rolling down your cheeks, too. it's incredible. Thank you. that's who i hope to be someday.