We once were so close
It was a necessity
Your absence used to make a pit inside me which needed filling
It would only calm with words, random, meaningless vocabulary that would make my insignificant somehow important
The ink made me feel complete somehow, like no one else mattered
The stupid feeling that should have been ignored was enveloped and framed forever, a proof of what makes me now
I embraced every feeling, good or bad and I carved it on the pages with a pen
It now puts a smile or a tear in my eye when I cherish my life through my journals
It leaves a good feeling in the heart reminding me what I was and what i am now
Touching the pages, I try to remember the feeling which once united us.
My mind is slow or words are more difficult?
Not sure. But my journal and I used to be inseparable and now we are strangers
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I used to write a lot when I was depressed. It helped me survive the worse. May be I am not as good or enthusiastic at writing as I was then but I remember the feeling that guided me then.
