Niceties

I get scared when I don't feel like writing anymore. A once vicious longing is now a dormant ache, and I'm clueless as how to reign myself back into the momentum where; words ran with the fluidity of running water of which I cupped with eager hands and lapped from with a voracious thirst. Words now run dry and I am parched in what seems to be an eternal desert brought on by time's insistence on my moving forward and sometimes losing sight of past goals.

The coming year looms with my apprehension of how difficult it might pose to be. Zk's enlistment, A level results, university life, I'm growing up, and so are those around me. A good half can hardly wait to plunge into the welcoming arms of a new year that promises a clean slate, and I mean, I'm sure there's something everyone wants to purge in the past 364 days. As for me I reside with the other half who probably had a relatively awesome year; Perhaps baby showers, marriages, engagements, divorces from unfaithful spouses, welcoming a new pet, a promotion, starting a new relationship, and feel a twinge of sadness at having to let it go and delve into the unknown. Where people, influenced by the flipping of calendars, somehow feel the need to change aspects of themselves and in the same fashion we slowly start to lose them. Maybe the day, year, will come when you outgrow the adorable expression of mock shock and hurt at my mock scathing words, and in time you'd deem the act of covering my face in tiny licks childish. Or maybe friends who've drifted away will find a way back, maybe some will find hope in a fresh start.

I guess all that's left is to wait and see.