Boom Shaka Laka

I am sitting on my heels, feet on the ground and my knees are bent, my head is above my kneecaps, arms reaching outwards from my sides. I am doing a puzzle. It’s a magical scenery of a house I imagine myself living in. A house I imagine myself with the man I will live with in. I imagine it’s his childhood home or similar to where he grew up, the way it seems. I imagine this man.

I am looking for the puzzles and there is slight repetitive jolting pains on the lower right side of my belly. I am slightly panic available but I think. All day I think about my dreams. I think about my upcoming birthday and about the games I grew up playing and the conversation I had yesterday and how I ended up saying my feelings for someone I know had died in my dream.

( Do you recognize what I mean when I talk about that feeling, there is a heavy shadow, a weight, the ghost of somebody. Like a heart that beats; something glowing in your body and just like a sillhouette this sensation has a face of the one that it is connected to. Let’s imagine I am not off topic derailing and am on point regarding the specific feeling. Let’s consider it is directed to one person if not all and then back to one.)

Perhaps I was mistaken.

I loved once, so deeply someone that I spent each and everyday waiting for the next moment until I saw them again. Every day was a way to find my place next to them, in front of them, against them.

Then I left.

I had never confessed.

I went far away.

I loved him still.

I pittied myself for I saw no way.

When I came back home I found out that someone else, someone who got to know him amongst our game, ten years into play… had asked him to be her man.

Looking for the puzzle piece I noticed then, the ease and the lack of care I load onto my current affair… might be the case for I have my heart still unwashed of the remnants of this person’s ghost.

I shed one and some tears.

I feel.