All that remains is 9 saved conversations. A few emails. And a memory in half-truths. I have a bad habit of turning to the buried past, taking comfort in its deadness. I am averse to new confidences, I owe many who genuinely love and care for me my deepest, most heartfelt apologies. You are not the one I need. What I need is receding in time. As memories fade, archives get auto-deleted, I sometimes wonder what I will grab at next.
There are new memories, though. Beautiful photographs. I find myself singing these days. New experiences, mature, reasonable company. Impractical, passionate people. Love everywhere. I will not forget. And be forever grateful.
There are things I want to say, but this is not the place.
I am glad for french roast coffee.