Space

In the quiet of the darkness, I feel the distance between us like a weight pressing down on my chest. I find myself tracing the contours of distance, a vast expanse that seems to widen despite my longing for closeness. 

Is it you drifting or me fading into the backdrop of uncertainty? 

Your absence echoes in the empty spaces of our shared moments, and the silence between us grows louder than any words we could exchange. I yearn for the closeness, for the warmth and the sound of your voice filling the void within me.

As I lie awake, consumed by thoughts I can't help but feel the ache of longing in every fibre of my being. The inner beast within me stirs restlessly, craving the connection that seems to be lost to the passage of time and distance. They were like sleeping beasts, their presence felt but their roar muted, waiting for the catalyst to awaken them from their rest. Then, you came into my life like a gentle breeze on a still night, a whisper that stirred the depths of my soul. Your presence kindling flames where there were once only embers, igniting a fervour that courses through my veins as if you've unlocked a hidden chamber within me, revealing desires and longings I knew existed but have not felt for so long.

Yet, memories flicker like distant stars in the night sky, beautiful yet unreachable, leaving me to navigate the darkness alone. I long to feel your presence, to share even in the mundane moments yet I find myself adrift in a sea of uncertainty, unsure of where we stand or if we stand at all. It feels fragile, like a thread stretched thin, threatening to snap at any moment. And yet, amidst the longing, there are moments of clarity, moments when I can still see you clearly. In those moments, I am reminded of the beauty that lies within you, and feel the intensity of how much I want you and how much I wish you were here.

But then, just as quickly as it comes, the moment fades, leaving me alone once more, grappling with the emptiness that fills the space between us. 

And so I wait, counting time hoping against hope that someday soon, you will be here, and we will be connected. 

Writing. . . my friend.

It has been so long, since my words have flowed. 

I feel as if I have been reunited with an old friend, you know the friend that you may lose touch with, an amount of time may pass and yet, when you're reunited it is as if you've never been apart. 

It's familiar, comfortable.

It brings a sense of relief. A sense of calm, a sense of release as words flow once more. 

Writing my old friend, how I've missed you.

The feeling as words flow from heart to written word.  Words from thought to paper.  From sentences to poetry. 

Words that have stopped the mind from drowning under endless ebbs and flows and waves of thoughts.  Writing that has eased the hurts, shared the wants, the needs and desires.  Writing that has shared pain, heartache, loss and grief. 

I have missed you, writing, my old friend. 

Let us connect, let us come together once more and share the journey of words, of thoughts, of emotions, of feelings.

Welcome back writing . . .my friend.

Revisiting . . .

I revisited this blog this week.

I've not had the time, motivation or more so the inspiration to write for such a long time. 

The one thing that was such an outlet for thoughts, emotions, experiences, life, became a somewhat distant memory as life gets in the way. 

I don't read my blog entries. 

Not normally.  I write them, I hit publish and they are out there.  I don't find myself drawn to reading my own words, I don't feel an urge to revisit the moment, the time or the feelings.

And this week, for the first time, I actually did revisit some of the entries here.  Someone had commented how much sadness evolved within my blog, from the words that I had written, from the posts that I had made.  I don't think I'd ever really thought about it, or certainly not how much sadness and pain there actually is here.  And yes there are writings of experiences that are damn hot, to me.  There are writings of times which I know I've been lucky to experience within life.  And regardless of whatever emotion is within my writing, I don't have regrets about those times, the people who were a part of my life.  I don't regret writing, or sharing or putting it "out there" . . .out here.

One thing I have learned over the years is that everything for me is emotionally driven. 

I feel.  Deeply. Strongly. Hard. 

And when you open yourself up to those feelings, to having such depth of feeling to the wonderful feelings that can flood our being, we open ourselves up to the hurt.  The pain.  The sadness.

I have no reason to hide the fact that there have been situations in life which have caused such pain.  I have no reason to hide the fact that I feel that pain, feeling it doesn't make me a weak person.  I actually think for me it's the opposite, these feelings have given me strength.  But these situations, these feelings, these depths of emotion that I am capable of feeling, make me "me". 

I miss feeling.  I miss having that depth of emotion of someone, for someone, for many things in life.

And yet, I write.  I release and do not revisit. 

It's happened.  It was. It has been - it doesn't need to be again *I* don't need it to be again.

But revisiting has reminded me just how much I love to write.  Of just how much it is a release of such thoughts and feelings, whether it be happiness, sadness, anger or love.  

This is my release. 

This is my outlet.

The urge to write floods my being.  I find myself wanting to make the time that is so lacking.  I find myself motivating myself to write. 

And finally, I am inspired.