Sunday, October 12, 2003
Letter
I asked you a lot of times, if ever there is a chance, would you live here with me. Would you leave the place you've known all your life, would you leave the comfort, the security and stability of home? Would you leave everything you've loved and known. Would you risk it all just for me?
Silence was your answer.
Then, "why don't you just go home here? I'll take care of you", you said.
And silence was my answer.
I remember there was once a time in our life, that we welcome the silence. We just sit at that bench outside my dormitory, we look at the stars, my head against your shoulders, your arms around me, our hands linked together, letting the silence envelope us. And we're secure in that kind of silence.
But now, the silence is both killing us. For now, silence means there are many unanswered questions hanging between us. Questions we're both afraid to answer right now. Questions just lurking around the corner, yet we're both afraid to touch upon. What does your silence mean? What does mine mean?
And then you continue to say, "Let's not talk about it yet"
And there was silence. Again.
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About Me
Joyce.
Contact me at b l u e b l i n k 1 3 8 2 at yahoo dot com
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