There’s always one particular table you’ll see me in at Grind, and it’s the one that holds the most memories; so here I am on it yet again. Why? Well, it’s the one that sparked conversations, ideas, and emotional trains that went far too quick to process. It’s the one that involved morning coffees, and afternoon banter. It’s the one that involved one Friday afternoon where I met family, not particularly mine, nor yours, or anyone else’s.

I look around and its people in twos, threes, and fours. I look around and I see friends, acquaintances, and couples. I look around, and I wish that I could see you. I’m sat at that exact table now, and I ask myself “Why doesn’t it feel the same?” Is it because of the familiar faces that regularly sat there parted, and are on different paths now? Is it because there’s a plethora of words unsaid, emotions unshared, or thoughts not exchanged? Why.

Do we psychologically attach matters that give emotional comfort to individuals who provide us with just that? Do we relate to being “under the weather” when our feelings with or towards a significant other are pretty much “under the weather”? It just so happens that it started to rain in this little island, and as clouds do, they gather and fill up the sky. I was once reigned over by content and happiness at the sight of that (emphasis on was) I now look at the sky with so much emotional weight, to the extent that I get the urge to look elsewhere.

Another thing that I tend to look away from but inevitably can’t avoid is time; as precious as they say it is, it’s not often filled with the things we’d like it to. With time, why is it that we initially recall the hard times before the good? Why is it that we remember those times when we were low before times where we were on our highs? I’d say that it’s those low moments that show us what we’re made of, who we are, and the people that were with us in that particular moment. When your demons come to play, when a series of unfortunate events (a.k.a life) occur, or when time takes its toll, why is it that the only thing you want to do is let it pass by? Why do we let the maddening sound of the clocks tick put us on edge? 

I could prolong this post and keep on raising the question of “Why” but I know the answer to all my questions; I know that in my lowest of times, as well as their  highest, I asked myself why, and the only answer I could think of, was you. I really don’t think I know what this post entails, apart from the question that I’ve been asking myself since that night.




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