Thursday, December 18, 2014
I still can see the little ring in silver in my keychain in form of heart, shining like a piece of diamond. This little something that I couldn't throw away as hard as I tried. It shouldn't mean a lot to me I know. Not because I am not Worth it but probably because I asked you to offer it to me years ago, now that I remember how far in time you gave it to me, or may be because it didn't represent much of love from you when you gave it to me. Yet, in the middle of pains, I can remember what we were both wearing the day you asked me to sit next to you and took my hand to put it on my finger. There were nothing between us but I believed so strong that we had inside of us loads of feelings of love for each other, in which I wouldn't believe again no matter. Looking back, I would try not to convince myself it was all fake, just because I want to leave to my heart little of hope that may be, I lived something true. Else, dying would be a better option in this case. Trying to cultivate my insane brain with some constructive readings, I always think of this beautiful citation in spanish: " ¡Los suspiros son aire y van al aire! ¡Las lágrimas son agua y van al mar! Dime, cuando el amor se olvida ¿sabes tú adónde va? Breathes are air and go to air, tears are water and go to the sea but can you tell me when we forget love, where does it go? This would be my question to you forever beyond the end of the world. where did years of love and sacrifice of the precious pieces of my heart go, or wasn't I just Worth it? Would you believe me telling you that after love everything hurts around even what I used to love in you. Would you believe that love makes of the loving ones monsters who do not know what aim to have for the remaining years, days, hours or seconds of existence on earth? Probably, my questions wouldn't mean much. You are right. Why should they? an end is forever anyway and you just ended me the day you took my smile away. What could really have a meaning to me now, that I walk lost in the hope that things never ended. How impossible would it be for everyone who has truly loved to live an insanity again. Probably, this would be close to death for me, not because I do not want to love, not because I want to impress you, not because I want you back, but because I simply can not do so. The leftovers of my dignity tell me everyday that I should at least respect what I have always felt for you that you couldn't respect in me. When I feel the intensive darkness around, I tend to wonder what could this incredibly bad thing be that I have done to deserve such an end. Then I remember that justice and sincerity are far away from the world of mortals. I keep faith in God that probably someday for any senseless reason, I can find my way to smile again.