I sit and I think about everything and everyone, and then nothing at all. Like a child’s body freezes when shadows dance across a dark room, I am still. Do my everythings, my nothings, or my somethings think of me? In the midst of their daily routines do I dance across their chaotic minds? Then I wonder, if people weren’t afraid of being read into…if we felt like we could say to someone, “You crossed my mind today, like you do everyday because I love you and I miss you…” without it having to mean something more than just that…would we tell people more often that they are thought of? I wish things could be so simple. I wish sometimes that it were easier to love everyone without hurting anyone because people should always know that they are thought of…remembered…loved.
Carma Bland, Midnight Confessions Journal