In the course of these past six years, I have written and re-written about a variety of things. About being in silence, about loss, about history, about love. Suddenly, the flow of writing stops. It stopped at the same time as life seemed to have stopped too.
For years life seems to have stagnated. The days pass, the lines on the skin grow stronger, birthdays come and go, and still everything seems to be the same.
It's so weird how life changes without us even noticing. After years of feeling numb, deprived of friends and flirts, it seems that the dormant period is finally coming to an end.
Somehow new friends started to come along, laughter and happiness seem to be making themselves present as they haven't been for a long time.
A few things still need to change, but these are practical things, meaningless everyday things. The meaningful ones, the important ones, these are finally starting to show their colors. A new trusted friend, a night of good company and laughter, smiles, a hug, a look.
Like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon , it's good to feel alive again.
For years life seems to have stagnated. The days pass, the lines on the skin grow stronger, birthdays come and go, and still everything seems to be the same.
It's so weird how life changes without us even noticing. After years of feeling numb, deprived of friends and flirts, it seems that the dormant period is finally coming to an end.
Somehow new friends started to come along, laughter and happiness seem to be making themselves present as they haven't been for a long time.
A few things still need to change, but these are practical things, meaningless everyday things. The meaningful ones, the important ones, these are finally starting to show their colors. A new trusted friend, a night of good company and laughter, smiles, a hug, a look.
Like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon , it's good to feel alive again.
