One is not haunted by a looming obstacle in plain view but rather the idea that the very fabric of existence has been ripped violently in two. I say haunt because one is haunted only by the intangible. She haunts me in a way that is not of the past, present, or future but rather in a way so profound I feel she must be time itself. I feel a lack of her at my core and when we converse it’s as if the air has suddenly rushed back into my lungs. She is, to say the very minimum, relieving.
I'm just a normal ass caucasian American plunging headlong into my early adult life.
Or at least that's what I keep telling myself.
Or at least that's what I keep telling myself.
Follow on Tumblr
© 2009–2012 Powered by Tumblr
