The Art of Looking at the Ceiling

You’re looking for answers when you don’t even have the questions. You’re looking for tranquility and relief, but letting go is painful. How is it going to be once you’re not in my mind? What/Who will occupy your space?

I like to look at the ceiling when I can’t find you, when I can’t find myself. Times when we are all strangers, human beings forced to temporarily resign to the struggle for interconnectedness to find ourselves. A self that cannot include you.

So many years dancing together in my imagination, loving each other across time, space, and everything else that has always been between us. You and I always present in the realm of possibility, in the realm of the unreal.

This time life decided for me. She knew I was lying when I told her I just wanted to hug you and then leave. How many times have I told her that I’ve moved on? How many times have I deceived myself thinking that we are meant to be together? How many times have I rejected new forms of life for holding onto the past?

I can’t remember, but I don’t want to continue forgetting my present.