Going back..but not really

D says she connects to my writings every time she goes back and reads them.. its funny because I can never relive that first experience of writing a certain piece.. I try i really do.. I always want to relive the state of mind i was in when i wrote it, but i can't.. I can't even retrieve the emotions I had.. its a shame.. that once i write it down its gone..just like all pleasures in life.. short-lived but so intense that when you go back to remember you realize that your memory is actually not serving you well.. the brain is not made to remember such amplifications.... so this is something i wrote a year ago..maybe it'll make you feel the way i felt the first time i wrote it..

Inspiration. All it takes is a little inspiration. A beautiful scenery? A good song? An intense experience? Nothing's satisfying my hunger. I feel nothing but numbness slowly crawling up my veins. Intimacy, food, and music don’t interest me anymore. Air no longer feels fresh. My lungs are fulfilled no more. I finally decided to give up, to stop expecting, and stop hoping. At least I decided. Now I can rest in peace. I've made my decision….but then he comes along. He comes uninvited. He sees through my clothes. I'm naked in his presence. I don’t like him. He sends me back into my confusion. I thought I made up my mind. I thought I gave up. Just let me give up. I'm torn inside. I don’t want to talk to him, but when I do, I don’t want it to stop. It must stop. I can't fall again. I'm smarter than that now. I've got no time for this. I'm too busy for butterflies. Yet he's got a whole legion of them inside me. A rare breed those butterflies. I've experienced nothing like them before. The kind that touches your soul once, only once, and once is enough. It feels wrong and forbidden. I’m in your zone. It’s so consuming, so wrong, but too good. Then I catch my reflection. I'm innocent and beautiful again. I'm a child. I feel my heart skip a beat…..I can move my legs again. I'm alive. I'm inspired.