Dearli

I could never have done what you did when you walked into the room. Maybe due to my personal predispositions, of always wanting to be left alone wandering in my thoughts, or because …
If I saw you walking in I could have described that but I didn’t. All I saw—or remember seeing—was you sitting across me. The conversation that ensued revealed a lot about us but the most important thing about it was what we both like—reading. I always wondered what I would say to someone who comes and sits next to me or across me and because all I can speak about is the joy of reading—that is books, books and books. Books are my babies.
Sometimes I always wonder whether feelings are always mutual because if they are then you must be haunted the same way I am by the memories of that day. On our first meeting we never met though we were enclosed in the same place both chasing an epitomisation of what we like. On our next meeting time was not enough though we got to share a lot about what we like.
The window to my right and to your left is what haunts me most. It is what I would refer to as the artistic part of that moment. Two people who sat together exposed to the world but oblivious of that. Dozens of passersby but none interrupted us.
I wish I thought fast enough to tell you that I’ll miss you when you hugged me goodbye but all I could say was ‘Have a nice time’. I wonder if you are.
I wonder why fate gives us doses of the best things in life and drowns us in the worst.
I hope our third meeting will be quenching; I hope it will provide answers rather than questions; solutions rather than problems. I hope it will bind us.
To date I still wish we never met. With you, a part of me is gone. I believe it’s my sanity.