Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Spark

The point where it began is nothing more than a dimming dot swimming in and out my mind. That disappears behind another memory just as I reach out for it.

I can't remember the beginning of the loss.

Enough raindrops has fallen to make way for a new ocean since. Enough lightning has raced across the skies, like a night scene of a highway of speeding cars.

It seems as though it's been a quick moment, when you watch from the top of an overhead bridge, mesmerized by these lights. But the Sun has risen and fallen many a times; cars, people, lives, intangible things, concrete things has passed beneath the bridge.

Something happens and a wave hits me. I miss the feeling of excitement running through every veins in my body. I miss the feeling of being so so so happy that I could jump through the roof and hit the stars. I miss my super talkative self. I miss feeling so bloody alive that I could burst.


Now, I'm stepping to the sidelines. For the longest time, I am sleepwalking. I couldn't tell the passing people of my dilemma. How different am I from a dead person walking? How could someone love a dead person?

1 comment:

Charlene said...

http://charlemaine.deviantart.com/art/The-Best-Day-Ever-78556240

Just click on it already.