thinking of you.

Hi. I just called to say ‘hello.’ You know I think of you all of the time. And even if I had more time, I would most likely not stop thinking of you. There isn’t a moment that goes by these days without your shadow behind me, your halo hovering above me. But no amount of shadows or halos will be enough to fill this hole, this gaping hole where your presence once dwelled.

But no matter how much I think of you has no correlation or influence upon whether or not you are even thinking of me at all. And if you are, perhaps the equivalent of a Facebook ‘like.’ And not much more than that. I hate to think about it. Why can’t you just be here? It doesn’t seem fair.

But I should not complain. My house is not on fire. My city is not on fire. My air conditioning works. The streets are not flooding. The heat is semi-tolerable. I am gainfully employed. Why doesn’t any of that distract me from these thoughts of you.

If I keep typing, perhaps I can will you into existence. I can summon you with each vowel and consonant. I am trying. Perhaps I am trying too hard. Maybe that’s how I got into trouble in the first place.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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