Does God only judge?

I feel like a child in a store in which everything is made of the most fragile glass.


Am I judging you?


On the window sill there is an envelope. It's red like the red of Christmas. You gave it to me a while ago, once when you believed in me.


My spine breaks with the dawn of a new day. The colours fly passed my mind's eye in a beautiful allegretto.


It hurts me to hear that you believe I'm like that.


That this would go to my head.


That here I am judging you.


That I'm convinced of finality.


I'm not.


But maybe I am? I don't know. I didn't intend on it. But you would know better (outsiders perspective and all..) so perhaps I did afterall steal the cookie from the cookie jar?


Sometimes..


I propose ideas. I propose reason. I propose argument. I place the world on the edge of orbit, let it pull into the gravity of the sun and then?


let go.



and wait.



Is this some sort of experiment? The lab is not well ventilated. I did not put on my gloves. I did not clean that spill. I did not put on my smile.


I found your envelope in my hands today. I'm not sure how its brilliant red arrived there. It just was. It still felt crisp and new and somehow unloved. I see love in tatters, in creases, in the smell of lingering perfume. That is love. That is presence.


You are free.


You are. Truly. My thoughts, their thoughts and even your thoughts are irrelevant. I don't expect anything from you at all. I hope for time. I hope for exchange. But I'm scared too.


I feel scared sometimes when I feel unsure. It takes away my control and stability. It takes away all logic and reason. It takes away everything I have. Or atleast everything I've learnt to have.


I don't think I have problems. I don't think I went and bought a little box of them to keep on my shelf for a day of boredom. I think I make them sometimes, well crafted creations, because it is better than silence. That should be made. As in past tense.


A lot has changed if you can't tell.


I feel happy reflecting. I feel happy just being. I feel happy when I can play music without being afraid of what it all means.


I love thinking of ideas. I have lots and lots of ideas. In this shop of small glass delicates I see a ballet of glass animals. I hear the symphonies play in my head. I love ideas. I loves surprises. I love making other people happy.


Bleak existence? I don't know why those words scare me. Is it because deep down I think you're right? Or is it because deep down I feel it is a grave error?


Happiness is always in the simple things. I love finding little things. No, I'm not just saying that. It's what I spend most of my time doing. I tend to think constantly and overwhelmingly.


We probably all think constantly. Just some of us listen a little more than others.


You got me thinking. Maybe I'm still not better yet.


I don't know anything more than just being.


It's all a request and not a demand.


I wish I could swallow a bubble and then float up to the sky.

Helena

We haven't spoken in a while. Two years? Longer?


What did we used to talk about when we would go to the park together after school?


I don't remember.


Do you?


Do you think we spoke about important things?


Sometimes it still makes me sad. I'm not sure where you went, or if it was me instead who left. I don't know why I'm writing this.


I believed you.


I believe in a lot of people.


Maybe that's wrong.


I think I pretend to be strong and to be independent and fine. Because I don't feel it.


I live so happily in my thoughts for a while. Each little thought gets me through the day. I've tried to step out of them and get in touch with reality but that doesn't always work. I think it is safer that I live in a land far away. No one can get me while I'm there and I can't do anything I'll regret.


I wish there was a restart button. A button that I could press and then start the day, the conversation, those few steps in passing again. I wish I could take so much back.


I know this will happen, but I don't listen to the smart side of my brain. I just choose to stay aloft in a sugar coated place where all my hope is in vain.


I'm sorry things fell out, I know they can never be the same. And I'll miss you.

dancing with raindrops

Dearest Lumesia,


Sorry for the late replies, I've been quite unbusy in my busy life. You know what it is like. I am also sorry for forgetting who you were for a while. Yes, I know - it is bad to get lost in your own.


Everything seems to be on a little bit of a standstill. I'm still trying to live up to everything; don't you worry! But sometimes those petty little things in life gang up like marching ants and consume you entirely.


What do you suppose I should do about the situation? No, not that one. The other situation. The permanent one. I should forget it, shouldn't I? If I did so, then it would no longer be a situation.


I remember you once told me that you cannot trust anyone else until you trust yourself. Well, I must be either really overly trusting in myself or just gullible to the first kind heart. I should have paid more attention to you.


I need to speak less, and smile more.


What's the weather like? It is as it is as usual. Ever temporal just like everything else. Am I so predictable?


I feel like I don't even need to write anymore because you know what will be coming next.


If you do, then could you please write to me soon and let me know? You seem to know me better than I know myself. For now, I'll rest in silence.


I hope to hear from you soon,


A.