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| suddenly, dreaming of paris. of art museums. of decadent beauty. of faded imperial glory. one day I will be there again on my own. And I will not be the high school girl ignorant about love. I will go there and I will see what you said I would have loved to see had I been right there with you. | | |
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we make too many decisions when we are young and ignorant, decisions whose consequences we do not yet fully comprehend.
Does it finally dawn on you now, how disproportionately devastating the effect is becoming, of that act of impulse of yours? Does it begin to frighten you now, how difficult it is for me to ever get over it?
Or are you still failing to see? How selfish does your passion have to be?
perhaps we are still too young to know how big this matter will one day grow into, how lasting its impact will be.
the mere fact that I am still crying my heart out, still having emotional breakdowns after almost half a year is beginning to frighten me badly.
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weighed down by the monstrosity of Memory
may i ask when,
when will this relentless feeling of suffocation end?
when will this nausea leave me? It's not the cold coffee, I know it.
The fact that LIFE IS STILL GOING ON, that THE WORLD IS STILL TURNING
how can this be? should it not have collapsed? the everydayness of of my whole existence, that I still go to the movies and hang out with my friends as if my universe is still complete and whole and perfect... it just scares me how absoultely pretentious I have become.
Just extinguish my thoughts.
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how can i explain how i feel... i feel so tired, so old, so drained.
I am 21. and have my whole life ahead of me, but my footsteps are already feeling heavy, I walk now with a burden that I used not to bear; but it is here now, and I can't shrug it off.
Because no matter what magical power one holds in hand, one can never, ever change the past.
What has come to pass cannot be altered; we can do everything to make up for it, but is it not better to not do anything? For any action would not help anyway, and the eventual failure which can be foretold from the beginning only serves to highlight the futility of it all.
Why not just let the whole matter settle the way it is, I wish no longer to excavate the ruins in my heart. Let the ruins be buried, why should one dig them up only to be reminded of the glory, the happiness, the contentment that is no longer? Why make the past so painfully present? Why force me to live with it?
I am so tired. The whole thing has cost me so dearly, I feel like I have aged in the brevity of four months. I have aged too much, to the point that I can never again laugh so light-heartedly as before. I just want to journey through life with a companion, one who can be ever true, why is this so difficult? Is it too much to dream of, to wake up to a smiling face that you know will always be there, to fall asleep to a voice that you know you will hear for the rest of your life? It breaks me apart to imagine myself trying again, after all these years, I have spent all my energy and all my youth.
I know I can never ever love again with such innocence, with such vigor, with such intensity, with such oblivion. Call it naive and immature as you may, yet this youthful, high-school love will never come again. Those declarations of love that came so easily then can never be spoken again, with the same simple-minded faith in a future that will always be bright and beautiful.
Do I still believe in that future? Can I still believe in that future?
Even if I love again, that love will never be the same.
It's just tiring.
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so now I realize, there is really no one who can replace you
There is no presence that can fill up the vacuum, no voice that can enliven the hollow within
The emptiness is only magnified, for the more I talk with other people, the more I see what is missing
The gaping hole presents such a mocking reality, but I can't choose to bury it.
who am I trying to lie to, when I say I don't miss you at all.
and who I can talk to about how I am feeling, but you yourself, since you are the only one who will understand.
crappppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp.
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