Where I have become, from a laughing eager bundle of fun, a passive stranger, haunted by the ghost of my past, that never will die away, but only will make it more difficult for me to survive.
Breathe on, I will. Die, I won’t. Live, I don’t know.
I wonder how easily you can hurt me. I’m amazed that my pain has ceased to bother you. Have we come to this already?
This strange feeling of not belonging to each other, nor to anyone else? Not to our own self even?
I used to think there was a limit to everything. A limit to loss, a limit to tears, a limit to love, and a limit to agony.
How naïve! None of these has boundaries. Not one of them follows logic or commands.
Failures are endless, and you can cry infinite times plus one. You can love someone like you’ve never before, feeling that you can’t exceed ever, and yet you discover new ways every passing day. And agony…
As each pain throbs and dulls, a new one takes its place. Challenges and ob…