A confession to dear friends
I fall to poetry when I have a copious amount of emotion, because prosaic writing doesn’t seem to give rhythm and proper closure to everything – it makes everything seem deathless. I dislike using full stops and prefer using commas, more of it, the better; sometimes, I’d use dashes – to further elaborate on an emotion worth giving details and personality to. On and on!
But today, prosaic writing seems to be adequate, most unusually. The wind is passionately patient tonight and I feel immensely grateful for friendships and for the great people whom have stayed despite my busy schedule and other commitments. The sporadic replies too are sickening, I am aware. Yet I am thankful for people who want to keep me in their lives, for people who don’t mind listening to my grave considerations about marriage and romantic relationships, about my seeming misanthropic predilection, about my innate indecisiveness about what to have for lunch, et cetera, et cetera.
I want to let all of you know that prioritisation and preference were never born in my establishment; that love for all is truly equal and wholly passionate; that each of you are distinctly different and greatly consequential to my life where growth and company are concerned.
The year is ending and there is no better time than now to have this dedicated to my dearest of friends whom I have seemingly shunned when I am queasy or otherwise. I treasure each and every soul: for every song you share, every problem you encounter, every loss you experience, every gain you revel in.
Today, more significantly than any other, I am so thankful for having an affinity with words. To be able to translate emotions to pure words unmarred and with most pleasure.
This is to all of you, who stayed and were there from the very beginning.