4 a.m.

I tasted the answers in the music you left me.
It was all there.
Every note.
Black and sweet .
Nothing left incomplete.

And you left me behind
 these old lines-

'Want you to know,
That I could go,
Any time...
I want you to know...

Once she would hold me,
She was my only,
only true love.
Once she had told me,
that I am holy,
only so long.'

What is this about?
Resolve?
Rejection?
Resolution?
Acceptance?

I feel so helpless.
But I’m a coward.

I can’t take my life in my own hands.
I can’t take my life with my own hands.

What do I do?
Pointless
Useless
Writing.

It’s not going to make anything better.
It’s not going to change anything.
But we were.
We could have.
Things didn’t have to be okay.
We had each other and I always thought that was enough.

‘You're always looking for love.
I mean the romantic kind...’
‘Yes.’

It’s 4 a.m. and I can’t get to sleep.
Pain. Insomnia.  Death.
There is nothing romantic about it.
It’s so real and the books and the movies and the songs and the dreams
are all WRONG.

If even one of this could make me a better human being…
Or a better writer…
It might have been worth it.
But maybe not even then.

What is the value of my life?
Who am I?
Why am I alive instead of him?
What do I have to do here, something that is left undone?
and why is it even important?

Nobody has the answers.
But these voices just won’t shut up inside my head.
Maybe I should kill the questions instead.

And he sings...

‘ Can you imagine no love, pride,
deep-fried chicken,
your best friend always sticking up for you,
even when I know you’re wrong.
Can you imagine no first dance, freeze-dried romance,
five hour phone conversations,
the best soy latte that you ever had
and Me.
Tell me, did you sail across the sun?
Did you make it to the milky way
and see the lights all faded
and that heaven is over-rated,
and tell me,
did you fall for a shooting-star,
one without a permanent scar,
and did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there.’
(Drops of Jupiter)
'Yes.'