Memories come like waves. Ebbing at the shores of my dreams, they come calmly sometimes and with a torrent at others.
I am restless trying to piece together a few fragments of what seem like disjointed chapters in my life.
The memories come. I beat myself about them and then feel the need to be guilty about that. But there are blanks. Little blanks where I want to join a part of the afternoon to the rest of the day. I struggle only to be left distressed.
What is it that makes me stand at the edge and look at only the rough seas?Why cant I see the shifting sand under my feet?
I am restless trying to piece together a few fragments of what seem like disjointed chapters in my life.
The memories come. I beat myself about them and then feel the need to be guilty about that. But there are blanks. Little blanks where I want to join a part of the afternoon to the rest of the day. I struggle only to be left distressed.
What is it that makes me stand at the edge and look at only the rough seas?Why cant I see the shifting sand under my feet?
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