Within the first few days of the new year, the battle of whether or not to write, or simply leave, I am completely unknown of the winner. The battle I was too tired to continue fighting in, still, I fought with time and those who tested my dignity. I didn't mind getting tested as long as people who stood two feet away from me did it, I just didn't know those closest could do it too, in one way or the other. I will sit in the wilderness someday and think of and about it.
I always loved playing with time; the way I felt about it whenever I thought about it, how I used to feel like I'd lock it in a jar, go to a favourite place of mine and open it with a smile so broad that it'd come out happily and I'd suddenly dance to melodies. I dream to make it happen one fine day.
I could not abandon. Neither this place nor the eyes that read what words play around here. I thought I could play with time and I want to try that now. For some unfathomable reason, I can't be an open book nor a closed book that can be opened for a while for I had to pay for it all. I'll just be something in between, like the woolen slowly getting woven. I'm not going to stop writing, I'll just play hide and seek with time or words, as you may put it. I may become a guy thinking about the girl he likes while he awaits his sister by a play park. I may become a woman who is going to visit her parents after a decade. I'll be anything and everything. And I'll be me somewhere in between. Because we all are a thousands of persons a day, residing in one single soul.
You can do just one thing. Come along and find me.