Another Piece Of Writing
By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: May  5, 2005

I’ve already written so much about being alone. How many more times can the same theme be re-worked until it drifts into a nameless fog, or worse, popular culture?
But tonight feels like strange dark and silence. These themes deserve to be waken is for no other reason than they provide a temporary solace to those who they effect. It is true we have been here too many times. “Move on”, they say, remember there is so much more than this. And yet here is where we seem to return.
Writing makes you feel better because it reminds you of someone listening. In a way, you never wanted anyone to listen, just to be listened too even when they pretended that somehow they were helping you, it was always you who had to make them feel that you were more than worthy of being listened to.
This isn’t anything in particular, just something to help me understand what you already do: that inside me I have everything I have been searching for. This isn’t a poem or a story. It is a search.
You aren’t a lover or a friend, you are a moment existing throughout time which I come back to that reminds me of what I am searching for.
I am not really searching. I am killing time until the day when I get over the fear of self-realization.
You aren’t really reading this. You know what is it because you’ve heard it before.