it. is a tumblelog.

here is something i thought i’d lost.

how your heart skips a beat in the surrealism of it all,

virtual realities and past realities and actual realities and,

fears, curiosities, the immeasurabilities,

when two people can finally face each another,

although only one can see,

glimpses of simple joys and,

carelessness in a tint of the carefree,

the voice of a familiar comfort, yet estranged from unspoken vulnerabilities

the realization of how i feel and how you are.

butterfiles evoke in the stomach,

the fabled feeling -that has been reduced to piecemeal attachments

comes home.