apple 152

There are some instances where you feel like sharing things. Nice, good things, shared with the people you know. The people that you think might like to hear what you want to share. You imagine yourself at home and there is someone to greet you, eager to listen to your voice. But then, you always seem to forget that those people are not always there. You keep forgetting that time and the people around you are on loan. You can’t keep them and their time is not always for you.

Then after a while, your desire to tell goes away. Washed up by the gentle breeze that was left behind by the absent. And everything in your life goes into a straight line. Why keep the simple and sweet things in mind if you can’t tell them? Why also remember a messy and fuzzy problem if you can’t share them? Why feel anything at all if you can’t spread or show them?