All the way to the edge of desire

There was that inexplicable feeling that I always felt whenever I was about to turn to the last page of a book. I felt my breath hitch as I read the last few words that led on to the last page and then on to the last paragraph. This is it, I thought. This is where it ends. And right there I sat dazed for a while. Not because the book was all breathtaking in itself but because I arrived at another finish line and I don’t quite know where I’ll be heading next.

I stared at the back of LJ Smith’s Dark Reunion and held it in my hands the way I’ve held all the other books I have ever finished. I reached out for the old square-shaped journal I have on my bag and started writing just to describe how I felt and what I have been feeling ever since the day had started.

Tonight I feel lost. Not just in the idea that I have no sense of direction but also in the idea that I have lost this unknown battle I ran up against since the weekend came. And now here I am seemingly tired of all that’s come and passed and I just don’t want to think about everything anymore. I just want to lie down and rest and stop thinking. Just for a second or a day or a week. I just want to stop thinking and stop worrying about what lies ahead.

I guess after a while you just get used to the feeling of being ignored and you just feel like not caring anymore and look for anything else to keep your head distracted, to keep your thoughts at a distance. And you stare out to that distant place as you breathe in the air of that particular moment till you know it’s time to plunge right back in, till you know it’s time to turn another page of a new book, till you know it’s time to live life again.

Write when you feel as if there’s not much heart left to feel.

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