This is not where I thought I'd be. My evolution has led me to a strange place, somewhere between forgetting and remembering. My heart is both confused and certain of truths and lies. These are not the colors I used to paint this scene, but nevertheless, here I am, holding the brush with a perplexed look on my face.
If love is not always love, then what else is it? Circumstance? Convenience? Sex? Fleeting comfort? Did I know all this from the beginning? Probably. Maybe I just wanted to be wrong. I wanted the judging looks and tones of voice to be wrong. I wanted life to show some sign of life. Its pulse was/is nearly as weak as mine, but it got so much louder. Too loud, maybe, so I took my leave. Only to find, upon my return, that life did not pause as I had. Time did not slow on the outside world as it had for me, it carried right on without me, not missing a step. So here we are now, and for all my pause and missteps, I'm still too far ahead for you to see, to really see me. You say that's why you're gone, and I know it's true. You'll not be saved by me, nor yourself or anyone else. You will carry on as though no one saw you stumble. You will blush, look around quickly and keep right on walking. No, these are not the colors love painted with. Love doesn't paint in muted tones, nor with half strokes. I thought you knew.