This mark of superficiality is existent parallel with a pragmatic love. Believe me, I am not at fault for what is now, what is the present. I am stuck in a time zone that is not today's, I am dwelling on what once was. I wish I had what I did have, what I could easily grasp. Now I cannot seem to forget, as I am constantly reminded, relentlessly seeking. I promised I would try to forget, yet I keep on tumbling on the same. I wish I could turn back time to stop myself from tripping on that pitch hole, but if so, I would have never known. It is a crucial time, no doubt about that, a time to mature, and to forget. To ameliorate the thought that it was once here, but never forget. I have taken the first step, the second step is shaky, the third is unknown.
Life is, as they say, a bliss—I say is nothing close to that, but very much like it.
No comments:
Post a Comment