Days when I don’t talk, I am waiting for the storm to settle. For my senses to resurface. Run back to the routine. Everything is bleak yet there is a comfort in the unknown. I am all up for novel experiences, and this unabashed uncertainty is the first of its sorts. Did I say too much, do I go too far? Where do I stand? What do I want? Days when I am not talking, these rigmarole of questions keep hitting my conscience.
I am wading away from the past, subconsciously. It pricks me a bit because past was my idea of perfection. Now, it is gone. But present is here, and present looks good too. :).
whimsical90 