He sat pensively in his compound,
the night so airy and friendly. His mind, everywhere at the same time. Information
reeling through like a data processing feed to nowhere exactly. Every
experience and its derivative - coming to stay as though he was data mining
from a supercomputer. How these experiences keep re-living in his mind without
his consent only adds up to the misery he was going through. He expected it at
a point in time but didn't know it would tarry this long. He loathes the idea
of his inadmissible mind to reconcile what has being.
Why couldn't she see and think
like him?
Why was she not seeing things as
they seem?
He bats the air in despair with
hands splayed wide enough not to miss the tiniest hover. He tries to weigh his
chances at having a second chance with her but the thoughts only succeeded in
making him mutter something to himself like 'shit'.
Even though, he's had his fair
and squared share of escapades, he still feels played real good and wants a
chance at unraveling what actually happened. It happened so fast, he doubts if
he would ever recover from the hands he was dealt with.
What a sore loser he was.
Writer tweets @vilejah
1 comment:
Reminiscing?. A relative piece.
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