More than ever during times like these - like what, exactly? Even I'm not sure what they are - I need to talk to you. Or I want to. It's not a need, or is it? Is it more of a want than a need, or do wants gradually become needs? I don't know, I'm digressing.
It's not when I'm sad or depressed or angry at the world or whatever; it's those particular moments. Like when you hear a certain song it transports you back into the scene when you first heard it - how you felt, where you were and what you were, even. I want to share those feelings with you again, albeit it probably wasn't anything worth talking about. I don't even remember much of our dialogue, actually. Were those words, phrases, sentences even considered conversations?
No, they were prose. There wasn't a beginning (or did it have one?). There wasn't an ending (it didn't need one). It was just... the middle. Full of ramblings and going-ons that I don't even remember now. I thought I could but I can't remember now. Why do I like to delve into this endless and meaningless(?) chatter - except that it wasn't meaningless and I still don't think it is.
Why aren't you trying to continue what you said you wanted? This doesn't equate to love - what the heck is love, anyway? Just a word that doesn't serve to explain itself - but I might be in love with those words. They were beautiful, sometimes hurting, but still true. I miss those words.
I know where you are, but, where, no really, where exactly are you?
