Over the last few days I’ve written about 60,000 words. Wonders never cease. 60,000 words, and if I think about the last two years and in between, you can easily multiply that by 20, 30, and you’d still have a conservative estimate of the number of words I’ve written to a single person. Now, if only these words, these lonely missives of companionship, love and committment, had been used more wisely, where would I be now?
I’d still be here, in my second week of school, but perhaps all this loneliness, this despair, this emptiness inside would not be here. Having lost everything through complacency and hubris, as well as apathy, why, there’s nothing to do but to pick myself up, and carry on. Writing, more and more, and more, to that very same person, a torrent, consuming my life, fixated on that singularity, all my hopes, fears and dreams in that one, the one.
Come back, come back.