secrets to me

there’s a secret i’ve never shared. and well, as i don’t want anyone i might know to realize the same, i’ll just write it here and come back to it, after a few years, i guess.

so well, i’ve always been fond of writing my heart out somewhere. and i’ve different mediums where i write.

and well, last year probably in october or november, i wrote two things, on a piece of paper, well left them, just where i wrote them.

i chose to make a tree trunk and well, some other place, in the open, as my closet.

one of them was a memory, that will always be dear to me. i wrote all that i felt about it, and found a place for it in the same place where i had lived it. it probably still is there and i guess will always be, for no one really would come there, out of all the places.

the other one, i left it somewhere peaceful. to name it after someone, i’d see sitting at the same place. someone who’d feel beautiful and different.

it’ll be read, someday. i don’t really know when.

but if i felt like it, i’d walk up to whoever and ask her to read, whatever is in it.

one probably wouldn’t be able to find it, on their own. i’d have to be around. so, well you could say, she would be the key, to the lock, that lies to those really simple words, but yeah, the whole of it, would be beautiful.

and that is why, i left it there, in the first place. to create a story, with seemingly just another day.

but maybe it was a beginning. maybe a memory.

i do sit around that same place, whenever i find time; my eyes shyly, looking around the same.

i’m still yet to name it. and there’s no knowing really, who would it be.

but i do know one thing, that i’ll always come to find my own ways of loving.

and nothing will ever waver me from that feeling.

i’m not here to write fiction. i’m here to turn the fiction.

there are no coincidences in my life. it’s destiny.

i may lack many things, but i shall never lack the believe that i’ve on my love.

and that alone, is enough to make me want to live

for to love is to hope.

with love