Short pumps and mules..

From a friend's post, just seemed to strike a note someplace:

i spent the day thinking about you.. of the time we spent together.. the way your gaze burned into mine, playful fingers over the cup of chai, the longing for you to hold me, tell me it was all going to end up the way it was meant to..

Random musing..

I have always wondered what makes people creative and original.. And how they express themselves so precisely confounds me even further.. Let me explain.. I'm a thinker, I want to believe I have an above average EQ and appreciate the arts (paintings, music, the human body bla bla).. Put all of that together and you would think I would at least be a little creative.. But hand me a piece of paper, and the words run dry.. Present a canvas, and the colors fade away.. Give me an instrument and.. you get the drift.. The thoughts never become things, and the dreams stay dreams.. Where does this skill of 'expression' come from?

It's been awhile, hasn't it?

This afternoon while stepping out for a quick lunch, I thought of you.. I don't know why.. It's been awhile, hasn't it? Six months? Maybe more.. I don't know why I wondered what was going on with you.. A quick bite and ten minutes later, I was back at my desk to see you had left me a message online.. Could it just be a coincidence? Of course it was, but silly me always likes to see signs even when there aren't any.. A quick conversation later, the thought of you still lingered on.. No, of course we were never meant to be.. If anything, I had convinced myself into believing there was something between us.. Deep down inside, I knew I would not have had the slightest hesitation to move on if a better opportunity presented itself.. Then what was it? Why did I still feel.. connected to you?