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Making summer my own, making the sun my best friend and making the scorching heat my escape. I’d escape to a white beach and to a sea with clear blue waters that caress cinnamon coloured skin. I think it’s called wanderlust and I’m aching with it. I’d start running towards that beach right now, if only it wasn’t so late and I weren’t so sleepy. I’ll sacrifice a couple of days, I’ll succumb to the deepest of sleeps and the longest of naps so that when I wake up I can enjoy every single second this summer has left for me.

Oh, these words, my dear! I want to make them my own, but they slip away, they fall to the floor with a thump and I clumsily stumble on them. Do you remember what I said? You don’t ? Well, I do, every single word and every last letter are imprinted in my memory. I survive through words and I live through images. In this messed up pretty little head of mine, I can’t tell with any degree of certainty if my thoughts are made up of words or of visual scenes and scenarios. Jumbled up is to say the least!

Certainty, there’s the real heartache. I’m certain it’s summer. That’s about it. In so many other respects, certainty is something of a luxury I haven’t allowed myself to enjoy or haven’t been able to experience in a while. The last time I felt certain about anything big is a bit of a blur. Better to be doubtful and not expect a lot than to end up disappointed in a way that’s unbearably painful to fix.

Walls keep pain out, but they also wall you in from embraces.

Not to worry,walls can also be torn down.

 

 

 

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