At night when you realize you may live your life a lone. It’s not that you’ve ever craved the white picket fence, four kids, and a dog life, but you always wanted someone there to love you. Someone who just accepts you and loves you for the very essence of your being. Who craves you just as much as you crave them. And you begin to long for that feeling, remembering when you’ve felt it before. Remembering the warmth around you while you sat in silence embraces and communicated through a look more than anyone could ever say in so many words. You remember how that was all you needed.
And then you remember that you just may have let that person slip through your fingers some time before this. You remember that you may just never find it again in the midst of the vast sea where the “plenty of fish” are supposed to swim. But you’re not a fish, your a person. And people can only remain underwater for so much time before they drown. You can either drown, or emerge through the turbulent waters and let the air hit your face, that air that gives you the clarity to realize that you may have really messed things up this time, forcing you to crawl to the shore, and live there on that deserted island with nothing to keep you company. Just you. And your thoughts. And remembering.