Tomorrow, I'm talking with you.

Five words, eight syllables. Twenty-four letters. The reason for which, for first time, I'm writing something without planning it before. Writting without thinking about. Telling a screen what I refuse to tell myself. 


Tomorrow I'm talking with you. A reason to hope. To stop for a moment a film that, precisely, talk about casualties and love. About cold days, of chill wind that accelerate casualties. Days like today. Days when that you most want is going into bed, under a blanket, and listen to wind whistling outside. But I'm in front of a PC, with my toes frozen and, now, trembling while I'm writing. Although this had little to be with temperature.


Tomorrow I'm talking with you. Only five word that are able to stole my sleep tonight. Five words that have woken up my hope, numb this week. And also the fear, that I know is waiting for me, and that, even I try to runaway, will get me tomorrow. When I were able to stop repeating that sentence in my head. And doubts, lot of doubts, so as always and now all at the same time. 


Casualties, cold, a film found by... casualty. And a promise, implicit in that five words. Tomorrow. Tomorrow you're talking with me. A casualty more, between so much others. I've never believes in them, not in that cases. But do you know? 


I'm staying here all the time it needs, waiting for my life's casualty, the biggest of them.

~Triss