Its funny how life is. Funny, my word and description for everything.
The flowers from SO hangs drying while the bouquet sit on the dining table, lonely and forlorn. How can something that brings me such show of adoration, decline to such a state of disarray and neglect.
Such is life, every mentionable has a place and time and it is just so that this is now and this is such and that my hands are fumbling, busy caressing the broken keys while my mind is running at a thousand miles a second... in all directions.
How can everything be moving and yet I am still here. Still, as in motion and time.
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It was dinner today. Simple. Silent. And yet perhaps one of the noisiest dinner I had with the company that I was with.
It made me remember the people who know me, without me saying a word. It made me yearn for the company of those who read me well and appreciate the walls that shield me from all those naked prying eyes. Grateful for all the assistance, both conscious and not, that rendered me to lead this life, though worthless in the eyes of too many and yet coveted in the minds of too few.
So much and yet so little was what it took for me to acknowledge this incomparably unfailing and yet diminishing passion.
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