He wrote to thank me for a “delightful” evening and to give me some lengthy info about a free virus download… His ramparts securely built or is he feeling nothing?
I answered, thanking him in return and revealing that I hung around town longer than I anticipated and that I wished he had been on the beach with me at sunrise without quite saying so…It has been three days. No answer.
His silence is killing me. Rejection sucks and hurts. Freakin’ shitty.
Stupid Hope, however, is going around denying facts, shaking her rosy little brain, telling me that I am jumping to conclusions that he’s afraid, that we could try to work it out… “Wait” she says. For what? WTF? I am sitting here with a lump in my throat, a fist in my lungs, unable to breathe, sleep or eat…What have I done?

Delightful. Delight. Lightful. De-light-ful. Full-light. Full-de-light. I play with the word looking at meaning behind the sign… What kind of full of delight evening did we share? How light-full was it for him? In what way? De-light. I decompose the word. What light? Where? He must have felt clear as he wrote this… he must have many thoughts crammed in that little word, but I can’t decipher the meaning. I’m in the dark. No light. I take no delight in his words sunk in my solar plexus in a searing cold white light.

I get angrier as I remain unenlightened. I rage at myself for stepping out in traffic when I should have known better. Yes, I took risks, pushed boundaries, felt the exhilaration of shaping life rather than just letting it happen, but the payback is hell. It smacks me down till tears spring up out of control.
I felt alive when I made him laugh, when I was in his arms, when I cupped his jaw in my hands and kissed him. I felt brave in my existence, in my expression. I was living my life in the moment, feeling every nanosecond of it. Alive… Sure! “Sensiens” without “sapiens”!
I am “sensiens” now too, only now there is no power left, no light. Only now, I reach for buttons to fasten a great cloak over my heart and I want to never, ever let it light up again.

The sun is setting in a murky bank of clouds: low, shapeless and dense. The grey swallows light like a candle flame in fog. Sunset is a dud today.

About emmylgant

Cloud watcher and dreamer sometimes wise, often foolish, but I am what I am.
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