Maybe this life was lived to meet you, for since meeting you that's all its been about.
A waking thought, a soft nudge- all pushing and pulling towards your direction.
The question to be answered has always been if I should choose you,or to choose
myself.
I'd always chosen the former, but this time I'd considered the odds- but through choosing myself, I'd somehow lost both you and I.
At this time, I'm sitting in the train station of Orlando, waiting on the Greyhound to head to Fort Lauderdale.
My feet have become swollen because of the waste I've been eating, as well as the long ride's journey- I somehow wish to go back.
But how far back am I referring?
Does back translate to the first time we met, or is it the last time we saw each other?
Does it speaks to where I'm coming from- where I was closer to you?
I seem not to know- I just know every answer to my question goes back to you.
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