Sometimes I get too thoughtful that it makes me feel lonely.
I think of all these people; people whom I used to be fond of, and they to me. The places I’ve been to; the space, the view, the warmth and cold. Now only a few of those people reciprocate the same fondness that I have of them, and the places that held so much life remained still and inanimate.
I think of them. Sometimes when I wake up, or before I close my eyes at night. I think of them when I walk to the university, when I wait for my trip at the terminal, or when I am in someplace else. I think of them at the first surprising and cold sip of beer, and in the warmth of the same bitterness in the black coffee that I love. I think of them when it rains, or when the sun shines brightly. I think of them when I am in solitude, or in the company of somebody else, for they remind of you for we used to share the passing time just like this.
And then sometimes I ask myself, do they hold me the same? Am I dear to these people too? Have I ever crossed their minds like they cross mine?
There was a time when I despised the reality of it. The places I’ve been to that hold so much memories are now just part of what has been. And the people will not always remember. I found it painful to be conscious of how all of it subsides the same way the memories that I want to forget pass and end.What only remains are the feelings, and thoughts that vacate my mind at ungodly hours such as this.
So this is how it is like to feel too much, to think of things too much. It feels so lonely.
20170127, 2:45 A.M.