I don’t feel the need to write with metaphors to write about you. Because every time spent with and every single thing related to you feels real. And for once after awhile the real thing feels nicer than having to write it in such parabolic ways. Even the well written metaphors couldn’t speak for what I’ve been feeling and thinking lately.
This when everything gets complicated. Because I also get scared of how real these things are right now.
Realest that I’ve ever been, realest that I’ve ever seen or felt. And to write about it in the most honest way could be so overwhelming and it suffocates me. But in a good way, exceptionally. It frustrates me internally, trying to find a way to articulate these intangible essentials which I feel genuinely and sincerely.
In the meanwhile, while I’m still unable to let these things out from my head and my heart in any kind of way, written, spoken, or drawn, I could only savor every moment of it. Let it flourish in most unexpected yet gentle way and cherish it would not only be a transient thing.