Flitting Freedom

Summer is finally at its close for me. I think this is good. It's comfortable. Already I have been becoming more and more motivated. I've organized my various notebooks, folders and binders once more so that my writing is less impeded and have written at least a few scribbles. I've found myself a new notebook for when I need it and have happily gotten over my short attachment to pens.

Of course, the swimmer in me mourns. Both for the close of the season in which I can work on my strokes and the untimely death of my swimming pool.

Alas, there are better things to read than the personal life of a hermit. And thus, I disclose my second writing exercise:





Photo snatched from ldbugs on deviantART



Today, an internal monologue.

I see you, tied in that world of nonexistence. In some part of me I know you see me too, but it is small. So, for now, I will only hope that your eyes catch my glances as well.

I might utter this, if only you could hear me. But are your ears so strong as I wish mine could be? Can they hear what this screen blocks or muffles? But if they are, would you not care? Am I nothing to you while I wish for your acknowledgment?

You hold out your arms as I do, but do you see me as you do it? Or are you running to someone else who holds your affections?

If I wrote you a note against the glass here, would you respond? Would you even acknowledge its existence? Or would you scorn me in disdain?

I must know. I need to know if you would care for me too, but I always lack the courage.

Oh, coward.

Again, I ask for anyone to leave their take as well.