Gaps form. But the space doesn't have to be a heavy thing - do you cry when it rains, or when the sun sets? Air pockets form organically like anything else, between friends, potential lovers, families. I remember, not even all too long ago, keeping close record of every little trickle, each sediment tumbling down the rock face. I would count them and place them methodically into yet another hourglass, time still ticking all the while. But it never meant anything. A chasing of the wind.
Sure, I might not be talking to someone as much as I used to. Maybe the laughs don't feel the same. But the sky is also blue. Up is still up, and down is still down. It is just an objective truth, not some sort of wagging finger. At least it doesn't have to be. I think I'm starting to understand in a deeper, truer sense that life is just bigger than that. Bigger than the when and the why. And blame, no matter how we justify it.
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