Don't

To a friend, who probably does not know my blog link. I think you’d figure out whether it’s you, or not, in the future, sometime. I just want you to know that whenever that opening tune of Sweet Nothing blasts loud on the radio, my mind quiets to those friday mornings in the glass room watching Sherlock with you. 
Thank you, for introducing me to good music. Whenever I listen to David Guetta, I think of you. And it’s not sad. It’s not me missing you. Or wishing things were like how they used to be. The thoughts that are attached to those songs, are happy. Because I’m happy I’ve met you. Even if now. We only speak from time to time. You’ll always be a happy memory, and those are rare to come by.

I checked facebook today, but nothing’s changed. Every single day, there’s always this ceaseless stream of photos by the cool kids, flooded through my feeds. Today, I wandered through the photos, the profile, the wall posts. It was a long journey, but I abandoned it half way, feeling too small. There are good types of feeling small. Like when you’re in a big city, with tall buildings, and throngs of strangers surrounding you, painted with possibility. Or when you’re wrapped up in someone’s arms. And that person feels massive. And you feel so little. And protected. And safe. 
But this sensation of small,
this feeling 
of insignificance
like an ant
that could be squished 
and no one would care


is not
a good feeling.


Quote of the day: "I’ll walk forever with stories inside me that the people I love the most can never hear.” - Michelle Hodkin