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I have lots of story ideas that I jot down and keep locked away on a password protected interface. Sometimes, I leave them here, to finish and post them to you, my viewers. This is one of them, only it was just the title. Months have gone by and I have forgotten what it was for. Some passing thought or dream, surely. Possibly another blog about missing my dad.

Now, the title is ironically judging me. Scouring in the corner that I’ve left it in, spitting the dust back to the floor. It lurks, looking over other blogs that I have so lovingly written, lamenting over indescernable sentiments. No matter how much I promise that it wasn’t my intent to leave it for so long. So, here I am, coercing it back into my keyboard, caressing it with soft words and thumb taps. Generating something into existence.

When I was young, I fell in love with someone who set my soul on fire. He claimed I filled his lungs with fresh air. Things came crashing down two years later and I learned a hard lesson. Many moons afterward, we spoke and I gained my closure. Our love was still there, still real and we both felt it. One of the last things he ever said was, “We may never see, we may never speak, but you will always be a passing thought.”

I’m still not sure how I feel about it.

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