My mind be like

His hands on my thighs, his hands on my waist… her hands under my shirt

But I wish you knew I still check for the absence of sesame seeds in things, that every time I write some words with a calligraphic pen I think of your words, that when I take a plane I’m listening to the things you told me to pay attention to, that when I wear some sparkly clothes I imagine you cheering, that every single time I do my eyeliner I think about when I realized I fell in love with you

And I know it’s been years, you have your lives and I’m here, still hurting

So much that my therapist doesn’t know why, I guess with you I was myself for the first time, i guess you helped me in so many ways that you can’t even imagine, I guess I felt loved and understood

Until I wasn’t

Maybe somebody would ask themselves, why A? I had this idea because I didn’t want this thought to be too personal, and so not naming myself but just calling me by the first letter of one of my nicknames.

I just then realized how it was the perfect title for what I wanted to write.

‘A’ is an indefinite article, a portion of a sentence who is used by many, few of them recognize its importance and it’s somehow fundamental until you define things, because the important things are linked to _the_ definite article.

So ‘A’ is a passage, a way to go through stuff until you find something more.

More present, more concrete, more definite, just more.

I wanted to write something more but I’m not a writer, nor that much of an intellectual. Actually I don’t know what I am. I just feel like ‘A’, indefinite and vague, lost in this book full of words that is life, searching for the meaning.

Just started Moriarty the remains

And to say I literally choked when I read this and thought how it would look without context?