Sorting Out

A reality where we existed
the same air we breathe
is getting thinner
the space that we share
it's getting a little oppressive
and i can hardly find my way
out of the maddening crowd

her eyes glistened,
flooded by
the hot tears
streaming down
hesitantly
from the ducts;
and all along
she thought
herself devoid
of emotions.

yesterday,
was a happy day
because i met you
and though we could
never be as we were
i know there's hope
for the future
someday.

and because i hate changes, i'm not an adventurous person, i think too much

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"It may be alright to do something scary without thinking
but not when the scariness is the not thinking itself."

Forever Overhead - David Foster Wallace
from Haruki Murakami: A Selection of Birthday Stories