Discontentment

                  It’s a little disconcerting, isn’t it? That it took the death of you to realize and appreciate life, as a gift in the most literal sense. I miss you…  At intervals. There is something forlorn about this memoir. The resounding spatter of rain decoys me to the window of my balcony. The rich grey cloud that grows darker with every growing minute turning to hours, the claps of thunder and angst of lightening, the thud of raindrops in the skies all resounding with the swirl of my emotions. It’s dark. It’s lonely. It’s a little scary… A reflection of the barren countryside where we last grew closer (and apart)... 

 

Was it worth it? Loosing you to anger, to hurt, to eternity…. Is it worth it?
*still deeply missed.