I remember the feelings in flashback, like a short film playing behind my eyelids. I know each scene so well, as if forced to memory; there’s faint flickers of joy and excitement followed by numerous shots of disappointment and anger, all intertwined with your twinkle and my tears. But to tell you the truth, I don’t feel it anymore, well I don’t care to feel it anyway.
I’ve accepted my weakness and sat with it.
But, but how is it that despite our age and experiences, we still let ourselves fall in those unnecessary, completely unworthy situations. If we’d only wonder enough to question, think and trust what we value as truth, we’d know for sure what all this was about. We would know what we actually wanted and how we should achieve that which would make us happy. Anything otherwise we would walk away from.
But it happens often, and reoccurs even more times. Like me, I went back to you countless times. Countless times. Your self-involvement made me think I didn’t know what I wanted. Made me ponder and think of others, a better ending, a happy medium.
But inevitably we allow ourselves to stay in the backseat and watch like an outsider as our standards and realities get trampled over. Clearly ridiculous, clearly the last of it.
It’s a lesson, I’ve learnt it, burnt the back of my hand as many times and learnt it.