A gaping hole so subtle, an abysmal wound so elusive, an evasive inception of a fiasco.

How do people learn to forgive themselves I wonder. How does one just get past the wrongs done to others? How does one wipe the tears that have not been shed? How does one heal a wound which still hasn’t shown? How do you protect yourself from things the eye can’t see?

Does being contrite suffice?  I remember everything so vividly, not missing out on a single detail. Even though its something I want to forget the most. Maybe the harder I try to kick it out of my mind the harder it becomes to do so. Over time I think I have become more of an eccedentesiast than I intended to be. At times I wonder what happened first, whether I became aloof because I was sad or I grew sad because I had become unclubbable. Whichever did, it certainly has changed me quite a bit! The kind of change you can’t let go of. The kind of change which after some time becomes a part of you, seems congenital even. Maybe sadness is addictive. Maybe once you see the beauty in all things broken, you just cant get out if it. When the nature of that evanascent bubble of beatitude dawned on me I remember I couldnt have felt more melancholy. Maybe I have an affinity for sadness. Is it a gift or a curse to feel everything so deeply?

How do people fill the void I wonder. How do people learn to get on with their lives so normally? Maybe when you love someone you impart some of your soul to them. And what happens when they depart? Are you ever even gonna be yourself again? How can you see the world like before without them? Or maybe these are all just fugacious infatuations.

I think even the sky felt nastolgic at that time for it was as brumous as were my eyes.I feel even the stars wept me that night.

 

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