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Promenading on the Fine Line


Wednesday, March 4, 2015 @ 7:50 AM
Form&fiction.

Whenever I see those kitsch succulents, a tinge of memories pass through me, wondering if I ever cross your mind now and then.
The lack of oxygen at your desk. The need for greenery for you to inhale whenever you need to. The inability for you to take care of plants. The inside jokes we used to pull; the constant teasing and lightheartedness. 
The seemingly agonizing late nights that don't seem so agonizing anymore because we were in each other's warm company.
The sheer fact that, I could always count on you for being available for me at a moments notice, or if I was simply passing by... 

Walking down memory lane with you is quite painful, as it shouldn't even exist in the first place. It was so abrupt, so unreasonable, yet understandable. I wasn't done with you, and wasn't ready to let go yet.

Nothing will be the same anymore. And that's something so difficult for me to grasp and comprehend. I'm always in denial, always hoping, always looking for the old you whenever our eyes meet.  

I'm always at a loss of what to say in those rare moments where we are in each other's presence; is it too much for me to ask to simply enjoy the fact you're there, without having to say a word? Or is that unusual between us now, when we could comfortably share the silence in the past? I honestly don't know.

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