Halcón

The kiss by Klimt

My most favourite painting is the kiss by Klimt. This painting tells you the story of an absent human's embrace. The kiss of a person who's not here. Maybe an ex lover or a dead lover. In my mind, it's a story of abandonment. Unrequited love.

Today marks the anniversary of our first kiss. The one "oh ok what the hell is going on, I didn’t plan on doing that" yet very wanted kind of kiss. One year today it was raining heavily and we were sitting on rickshaw. I remember dates very well and I keep them close to my heart, guess that's why I remember. Does he remember as well? Do I scar him the same way he scars me?

Yesterday when I was lying on grass, I was looking at the sky and I was asking myself, whether I'd travel back in time if I had a time machine. Whether I'd stop myself from kissing if I knew this was gonna happen. Whether I'd let everything just flow like it was supposed to. There's no answer to the question. All I know I'm hurting. And I was hurt then. I'm not angry though. And I'm hurting for some other reason.

My head feels heavy today. I'm not done crying. I hate everything. I feel like I can't express what I felt. What I'm thinking now.

I can't express properly.