Writer’s block alleviates the moments I can’t see through or seem to shake. As the depth of character in you fades, I’m thinking I may never look at you the same. Would you mind at all, anyway? Who am I to say and who were you to stay? Maybe it was simple, the answer you thought I was looking for. Still I was puzzled by how unoriginal you remained. Although I never sought after much variety in doing so. I took the straight and narrow path, for now. Still my eyes danced upon the winding hills with envy. Much else was not too much of my concern until the time to act was called. It was quite odd to reveal such truths. Everything seemed a pale comparison in exchange for the right state of mind; a once blissful attitude. It didn’t seem right to choose and so I waited. Dipping in between present states of consciousness and pasts that I hated. The spectrum of opportunity seemed dull as well, and I thought frequently of leaving state. More often than most things, I suppose. Aside from how you got off on all of this. And even still, how I held some sort of place for you in my heart. Perhaps in the internal realms as well considering it held little to no value to passively persist in this way. The answer, however, seemingly logical as it was, remained clear. I held a new intention now emerging which gave me hope in such stale moments and upon other said matters. It was only temporary, after all. And it was obvious we had much potential within the confines of the creation to further explore and recreate, perhaps even master an untimely recreation. To which I will not further disclose here– far too public a platform when even pen to paper seems public news.