Words Apart

The peculiar feeling of suddenly sitting here, at your own desk and realizing that the scribblings you have been staring at are actually your handwriting. You can still make perfect sense of what is written while you fail to remember what you were thinking of while writing it down. With an inexplicable warmth crawling up your gullet you realize that there is no telling at all if it is the same you sitting here now who wrote it all or if meanwhile you have transformed into a whole new person.
Now you look at your notes once again, this time with bewildering amazement for the human who wrote them, for the person who managed up till now, worked it out into becoming you.
With rising curiosity you now look at the almost empty mug next to the notes and could not help but take that last huge sip, just to know how must have tasted in the mouth of the one who left you all this.
Still not having swallowed down the creamy bitter substance you now go for the pen which has been so exhibitionistically lying there all along. With a gesture suggesting the intention to write you can not help but wonder how it must have felt to be the one who brought it all together.