it matters until it doesn’t, and until long after i’ve lost you to the space where the sea and the sky meet- but let’s not call it the horizon just yet.
it’s not a hypothetical place, but the solid air at your eye level some couple feet in front of you (or behind depending on how you are prepared to stand)- and horizons are still an abstract distance some thousands miles from you- something that keeps moving away, no matter what direction you walk in (unless of course, you are walking parallel and slowly losing eyesight and footsteps, trying to keep a track of the sidelines beyond which the waters turn thirsty.)
all you need do is learn-
the manners and mannerisms of a broken heart, because it’s only hypothetical until it crosses the two feet distance and lurches into your chest- carelessly like a discarded note saying “i can’t do it anymore”.
there’s a lot of things i can’t do anymore. reading a conjectural epiphany aloud from my palms are one of those.