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Why I Couldn’t Write About Him. 

This is a very short post, and very, very personal. I didn’t even think I would post it here, and honestly, I’m probably gonna regret it tomorrow morning, but right now, my impulse got better of me. 

So read on, and I hope you enjoy. :) 

I can’t Write about him. 

I never could

I, to whom writing comes easier than breathing, am rendered speechless – wordless- when it comes to him, because somehow, somehow, I can’t write about him. 

There are few things I could never write about, things I care about the most – my family being the biggest example. 

I never wrote about my family, I never continued my blogs on Diana, and I never wrote about him. 

It’s not the same thing, what I feel for him and what I feel for my family, not by a huge margin, but there is this similarity. 

What I feel for either of them is too big for even my words to cover. 

Somehow, I can’t describe him. I can’t describe the twinkle of his eyes (cliché, I know, but which part of this isn’t!), the curve of his smirk, his tall, gangly, body – almost awkward in its demeanor. 

Maybe a better writer, a better person can. 

But I… I can’t. 

He’s too intricate a landscape, and I’m just learning stick figures. 

This post first appeared on CoffeeTableThoughts – Where Thoughts Meet Emotio, please read the originial post: here

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Why I Couldn’t Write About Him. 


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