To miss someone at 2 p.m. is to miss their presence.
I am surrounded by people, but I feel alone.
As I stare at my computer screen and drift into a daze I get flashes of flashbacks.
Ieva Urenceva
I am holding a pencil and my hand is pressed against the metal notebook spirals.
The pencil slips from the grasp of my fingertips.
A student drops a book.
The slam echoes in the silence.
My mind travels back to reality.
I pick my hand up.
The tender skin is indented with curved lines.
The tender skin is red.
My eyes refocus on the screen.
You pollute my stream of consciousness.
In the midst of a busy day, I want you.
In the middle of a field of books, I want you.
Trapped in a world of thoughts, I want you.
It is a black hole of loneliness.Its human natureto feel empty sleeping alone.
Comfort is familiar companionship.
It streams blood into an empty vessel.
It radiates life to the lifeless.
But to miss someone at 2 a.m. is to fill a void of loneliness.
It does not matter who is beside you.
Its to have someone beside you.
In the blink of an eye, a person becomes a ghost.
All that is left is faded memories.
Small clippings of life scenes.
Study group at 9 p.m.
