I haven’t written in a while and there are good reasons for that. But today, I feel like writing again.
We started with one thing in common. But I dug deeper, hoping to make more sense of that, hoping to make that relationship more mine. And I would have given up long time ago. Except for the fact that we are more like each other than anyone else I’ve ever known. For someone I’ve only spent seven days of my life with, it’s quite strange, and perhaps refreshing, to see us in two divergent paths but with the same character and attitude. It never was meant to be, and perhaps it’s nothing more than an exercise in serendipity. But damn it I care more about this than I thought I would.
We are different, too, in ways that matter deeply only to me, and for that reason alone I would not venture to predict any different outcome in the future.
It’s strange, though, isn’t it? For some reason, without that much time together, I can already predict the answers. I pose them and the animated expressions and genuine outburst of agreement simply verify what I’ve already known. I’ve spent much more time with others and not felt that cohesiveness. This, I’m not sure if I will ever have in any other place of my life.
Yes, this is mine now. This is now independent of how we were initially connected. We won’t speak again for a while, yet again.
But it will be, again, as though we had never left each other.