It is fine, everything that is happening is fine; the people I met in the day, the words I spoke, the tears that I hid in my voice - everything is fine. I am managing myself even in such a volatile state, against my own expectations.
Things are starting to make some sense. The 'why's that I asked myself a year ago, are now losing their meaning like a distant sandstorm of amnesia were erasing all the memory of feelings that I once felt. Now, like an albino heart, I feel nothing anymore. I'm handling myself fine...
At times, I tell myself that my life has probably started anew, now when I thought that it had ended. Though, I'm struggling to find a meaning beneath the darkening sky of my habit of holding on to hope. A meaning, that could explain the emotional catharsis that speaks in a language unknown to me...
...am I still capable of feeling?
This does not mean that I've made peace with what happened. This does not mean that the past was a lie. It doesn't mean that i don't want to go back, it just means that i can't and with this burden I am moving forward because, like everything else, I have to. I can't escape the unidirectional fluidity of time, my destination lies downstream no matter what I choose, no matter who I met upstream, it doesn't matter if I wanted to stay, my eventual destination lies at the end of this world and I have to let it flow because there is no other choice. Drifting; at times, willingly...at other times against my will but I'm moving on, an autumn leaf on the surface of the stream of time...
I hope we meet again in the sea..
Things are starting to make some sense. The 'why's that I asked myself a year ago, are now losing their meaning like a distant sandstorm of amnesia were erasing all the memory of feelings that I once felt. Now, like an albino heart, I feel nothing anymore. I'm handling myself fine...
At times, I tell myself that my life has probably started anew, now when I thought that it had ended. Though, I'm struggling to find a meaning beneath the darkening sky of my habit of holding on to hope. A meaning, that could explain the emotional catharsis that speaks in a language unknown to me...
...am I still capable of feeling?
This does not mean that I've made peace with what happened. This does not mean that the past was a lie. It doesn't mean that i don't want to go back, it just means that i can't and with this burden I am moving forward because, like everything else, I have to. I can't escape the unidirectional fluidity of time, my destination lies downstream no matter what I choose, no matter who I met upstream, it doesn't matter if I wanted to stay, my eventual destination lies at the end of this world and I have to let it flow because there is no other choice. Drifting; at times, willingly...at other times against my will but I'm moving on, an autumn leaf on the surface of the stream of time...
I hope we meet again in the sea..
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