It was I that thought of you today. I often do. Others may as well but I only know of me.
You were in a dream first and my sister was luring you with her charms – you succumbed and I was fraught with pain and anguish at the thought of abandonment. I had been clamoring after you in my usual attempt to find the love you have for me – it isn’t often clear.
I found you in a bed together.
You tried to convince me that it wasn’t that you didn’t love me.
She wouldn’t have purposely done a thing like that when she was alive. Just as you told me in the dream, “I couldn’t help myself.”
No one could resist her. She attracted everyone. I repelled. She couldn’t help herself either – it was just the way things were.
If not for you and a scarce few others, including my sister, I might not have had any chance to try to be known. That is what we all want – a chance to be known. We want someone to want to know us. Someone to ask questions. Someone to say, “Is that really how you feel? How did you come to feel as such? That’s very interesting. Tell me more.”
You don’t always do that but you do it enough to make me believe. My sister was the same – sometimes but not always – interested to know what thoughts I had. It wasn’t unlike her to call me a cynic and point out all my flaws though – too.
We want someone to want to see pictures of us in our younger days where we might be able to see our better side. We want someone to want to recall those days when we might have been together in them. We want someone to want to be with us – even if we must remain silent. We might even prefer the silence – just want the company and we want someone to want to accommodate us.
These things are quite unusual to find.
Sometimes, mostly in dreams, I find that unusual thing in you. Other times, I find you in bed with someone else.
Isn’t it a pity.
Writing Spool 