This is how we exist, intertwined in each other’s trust.
Eventually, a brave soul approached you unlike the rest of us cowards.
This is how you’ve endured, hands clenched and heart sewn by a concavity of emotion.
There will be anxiety and you will be an infusion of nerves, susceptible to the slightest trigger. Each feeble disappointment, each missed bus or train, each misplaced item, each will be a catalyst.
He doesn’t just remember but cherishes these memories of you. Each and every memory is a stretched tale told as if the story of you and him is an ancient fable.
You will be fixated on misery and grief internally. Not always but in fleeting moments, it always comes back. In your mind you will always resort to whatever pained you.
Do you ever wonder at what point you become a grown up? Is there some pinnacle age? Do we pass some standardized experiences before we claim such a title? Because everything I associate with adulthood is underway like the 9-5 grind and the financial responsibilities.
You exist here, in this forgiving world of solace and it is here that you will appease your soul.
I am the embodiment of nerves on the brink of collapse.
We come across people for no matter other than to capture specific moments and to see the beauty of human interaction and of plot lines colliding; the why the story is individually decided, because we all see different themes.