“I want to tell you something”, he said. “What is it you want to tell me?”, she asked. He fell silent, but not really. He talks to everyone but her, his voice ringing out constantly, yet he never completes what he says he wants … she still has no idea what he has wanted to tell her. After all these years she’s tempted to stop listening, to stop waiting.
She snapped a photo of a gift given her several years ago. Sweet memory of the one gone now, who gifted it. She wanted to share it with the world, but noticed cobwebs in the photo, so she kept it hidden.
Love and guilt hover so near to each other, a war is waged in her mind. Is it possible to have one without the other, or are they forever combined? They’ve been united thus far, no other reality has shown itself.
Everywhere she goes, everyone she meets has experienced the same combination at one time or another. Some say Screw It! and no longer care, but what does it mean to be there?
She doesn’t consider herself ‘tolerant‘, she deals with ‘stuff’ because it must be done. Ironically, she chose this thing which is sometimes called struggle. She wonders, “Did I know what I was doing, or was I simply naive?” She hopes some day it will be clear, she hopes some day there won’t be an even bigger price to pay.