I need

I need a nice notebook. No, I need the notebook that I had at home - home, in my room, home, Hanoi -
I need to write. Something that neither Blogspot, or my diary can hold.

I need to write about myself, the selves inside me, and the self that has been ever changing. I need to document the truth about myself. And there is only one suitable place - the brown notebook. I wish I could have it with me.

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I need a physical clasp. The creative side in me has been very prosperous these two days. Multiple sketches: water color, pencil, ink. Photographs. Nail polish.
Yet, all of these beauty is but untouchable.

It feels like pouring water into a bottomless well, no reaction, no change, no existence.

My hands, which is grabbing air, wants something tangible. I need to hold on to someone.

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Since when? I don't know.
I stop feeling the need of a hug, of a hand grasping, of a loving touch.
What I really need is a touch in the heart. I want someone who can reach my soul, whom I can rest my ever-echoing heart, my restless thought on.

Without that, I am still here, on my own, feeling the wind of life reaching from all direction. No one is there to cover me.
The path of solitude,
one trace of foot print,

hand touching air.