Everytime I feel my thoughts getting that smaller and narrower to where they always begin, it usually pays to ask, "SO WHAT?" very loudly in my head, since the question (referring to another) has never been popped.

Allow me, to obsess quietly and negatively, on my own, without cause, and with doubts, over a lack, an absence and a distance that we can only hope to conquer, but never bridged.

I have no more to speak of, just like how you have no more to ask of. If henceforth, I stay this silent and still, without my drama and direction, will you continue the play, have you considered. Has someone left without my realising; can I live a life of abstinence from questions and answers peculiar to you and I.

It's all too easy to miss, a hateful missing of a kind so commonplace and mediocre, it hurts to know we are experiencing it.