Try It Five Times

“This will be the fifth time I’ve tried to write this down.”

The room was empty, as it was late at night and everyone had gone to their respective beds. The words quietly whispered themselves to no one.

Some feelings exist in your chest with an overwhelming need for exploration, declaration and furthermore – an explanation. Explanation of how it got there, and why, and what does it mean. When will it go away? Where did it come from?

Usually these feelings made their way into a poem, a photograph, a sketch, or even a song.

This time was different. It was trapped. Unable to be expressed, explored, or declared, let alone explained – it simply festered.

It was not a good feeling, nor a bad feeling. It was a twisted feeling. Perhaps even a disorienting feeling.

Describing the feeling in any way led to an unsolvable maze of contradictions.

It would start at a lonely place, only to realize that it also led to a sense of new togetherness. It would feel cynical at first, but also surfaced feelings of love. But what kind of love? Love of family? Love of friends? Love of romance or lust? And to what end?

It was a pining after an unattainable, unachievable horizon that was ever moving at the whim of a stranger.

A stranger who would move in and out of sight, and the particular stranger would perhaps not remain the same from day to day.

But then, the words finally fell out. She blinked at the simplicity of the feeling she’d been trying to describe. She wasn’t sure who the words were to, but she was certain they needed to find them and absorb their message.

Just love me.


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