How is it that we don’t talk and yet I feel connected to you. Like we are stars that emerged from the same interstellar dust of cloud and our bond won’t break by the distances or the silence between us. We were very alike, synced. How is it that I am not mad at you. How does it not bother me if you are doing things that once made me flinch. Why does your absense feel eerie? Why don’t we unhitch? May be we have and I am hanging on to the last filaments. May be we never will. Uncertainities have become my second name. And yet, there is peace amongst all the chaos.