Sim from Nowhere

“Do you think Jesus, the son of a carpenter, smelled the wood of the cross and briefly thought of home?”

I just saw a text I sent myself from his phone a few months ago when we were "together"

I don't think I've ever fallen out of love and maybe that's why i remember everything. But I've seen people fall out of it, and they forget. And you know, seeing them forget things you remember them remembering once, hurts the most.

Going through our old texts

The silence and emptiness of my room scarily similar to something, which I am quite unsure of. And everytime I talk, my voice echoes back and forth these walls before entering my own ears. As, I'm writing this, I wonder do you even understand what I mean to say, cause I'm still new in this game of expressing. Are they like the medieval poetry to a modern age child or are you a connoisseur, who actually understands these. I'm still figuring out how these words sound to you everytime you read them. Do you fathom them or it's just another gibberish?

They don't make love songs now, the ones that we could listen to, while walking around the same road again and again, until it's time to go back home. Sorry I've been a little distant lately. The paragraphs which included 34 emotions have turned into one-word text messages. I know I've been like that old television channel that plays the static sound all day long. The noise prickles through the skin like needles, but I am an addict now. I know these words don't make sense, so I'm just waiting in my funeral suit.

If given a choice, I'd like to die on a Wednesday. Middle of the week. It isn't as rough as Mondays and Tuesdays, it doesn't give you the anticipation of when will the weekend come, like Thursdays and Fridays. It's simple. It just exists, there, like a normal day where everything is mundane.