blueorchid

I sometimes think why we behave how we do. Everyone has habits, so hard to let go. Habits accumulated over the years of meeting people. Habits picked up, heard, seen and done. The habit of not giving up. Of waiting. Of hoping. The habit of sitting wrapped in a towel after a hot shower because you're not sure of the day anymore. The habit of not being sure. Of decisiveness. Of indecisiveness. So much so they begin to define us. Involuntarily. Subconsciously.

For everything we are, for everything we ever wanted to be. We dream on. I sometimes think no one ever is free. You exist somewhere, always. Sitting on someone's wish Or a memory A fleeting moment a forgetful thought or some failed attempts at forgetting sitting there, silently, in the back of all faces smiling in people who pass by We're all there. Silently, just existing. Just like the air. The light. The absolute absence of darkness. Some light Light is hope isn't it? Who knows.!