How easily I can dive back into feeling blue and melancholic. As I silently wait for you to show up online, I sip on my glass of wine again, I think of the taste of a burning cigarette in my mouth, and the conformance of each episode strikes me.
The scene starts with a dark feeling, one I cannot explain with the seemingly ordinary circumstances I find myself into at the time. Then I slowly move into listening to Nina Simone, I get caught in a love letter on a random blog, all the while waiting for you to show up. I find myself in the letter, I miss you too! I loved you too... Then I pour myself a glass of wine, I want to savor every minute of my despair and nostalgia. And I start writing.
First it was the longing for home, then it was the war,
then it was more personal struggles, then it was an impossible love story, and now it's you. And I think to myself, why would I write it here? Why would I let complete strangers know my deepest and most feared feelings? What is that connection that bloggers might have? Would I ever let an acquaintance in the real world this readily into my life and into my torments?
Is it because I know I am inaccessible to any judgement behind my screen? Is it because being part of the blogosphere, people already share a common bond, a common passion to write, and thus a common understanding? Is it because I can be intimate when writing in my room, at night? That some words come out easier after midnight when my keyboard is my only outlet?
I miss you. And I love this feeling for what it is. I miss what I am when I am with you. I think I even missed feeling blue. I miss nostalgia itself. Maybe it makes me realize that yes, I still am a human being, with feelings. And I am sorry for I have been so consumed with daily life. My feelings still run deep... And you will not show up tonight.
The scene starts with a dark feeling, one I cannot explain with the seemingly ordinary circumstances I find myself into at the time. Then I slowly move into listening to Nina Simone, I get caught in a love letter on a random blog, all the while waiting for you to show up. I find myself in the letter, I miss you too! I loved you too... Then I pour myself a glass of wine, I want to savor every minute of my despair and nostalgia. And I start writing.
First it was the longing for home, then it was the war,
then it was more personal struggles, then it was an impossible love story, and now it's you. And I think to myself, why would I write it here? Why would I let complete strangers know my deepest and most feared feelings? What is that connection that bloggers might have? Would I ever let an acquaintance in the real world this readily into my life and into my torments?
Is it because I know I am inaccessible to any judgement behind my screen? Is it because being part of the blogosphere, people already share a common bond, a common passion to write, and thus a common understanding? Is it because I can be intimate when writing in my room, at night? That some words come out easier after midnight when my keyboard is my only outlet?
I miss you. And I love this feeling for what it is. I miss what I am when I am with you. I think I even missed feeling blue. I miss nostalgia itself. Maybe it makes me realize that yes, I still am a human being, with feelings. And I am sorry for I have been so consumed with daily life. My feelings still run deep... And you will not show up tonight.
