Dear R
Was it difficult to find me? I saw that you did come knock on this door. Was it worth it the trip down these alleys, that lead you to this chaos that is me? I am here to answer this call and look at you in the eye for hours at end. But tell me, is it me that you found or just the feeling that this was what you had come looking for?
I try not to sound selfish but I can’t give too much away. I know this is a trip I want to go on but don’t know if this is how it’s meant to be. I feel what the world calls sadness, but deep inside it feels so much better. You can’t understand the bad if good hadn’t existed for you. If I understood your words truly, then I’m glad you didn’t say anything of that out loud. Because yes, I’m selfish, and I’d like to keep it all to myself. They talk of songs and poetry, but I’ve seen words dance in a way unknown. I find myself gloating that I could understand it, without you saying anything at all.
I hope you can feel me, feel each word say what it is really doing here. The movements the vibrations, the dance around reality. Come lets read, reading you reading me. No it’s not over, it never is. I am a storyteller, each and every part of me. But I guess you knew that from the start.
Waiting to start it all over again.
Worth it?
