Orange Room
I remember the times. Those far away times. Those remote times when I felt content in myself. I was single. Longing for a relation that captures my soul and spirit. I was hopeful of this dream. To realise myself. To realise my being. To be liberated. Through a real deep love. Real deep state of being that will help me unleash all what I have. I was hopeful. I had hope. I remember the room I used to sit in. Write. Blog. Talk. Spend my time. Looking to the walls. Talking to myself. Writing. Writing. My feelings were present. Even though there was nothing there. The loneliness and solitude brewed my feelings and made me ripe. Made me full of passion and hope. Yes hope. Hope that one day a deep pure love will take over me and carry me through all my sweet pains. And deep longing. I was hopeful of a connection. A real one. That can see through me. Penetrate me deep to where I know I exist. In this depth I survive. And I was proud. Proud of myself. Proud of these hidden gems I thought I c...