Its been a year and half, and a little bit more, since it closed. That warm feeling, which made all emotions sink like ink on blot paper... I can call it mine no more.
And since then, LIFE hasnt been any smooth either. Its no surprise, given there's not an hour that dare pass when I dont think of her. Things feel like yesterday, and then a moment later its a scribble on a forgotten papyrus. Silly me, but true.
I had tried some funny ideas trying to work my way around this hurdle life brought me. Or I brought upon myself, says the new me. But no amount of being busy came to assist. Neither did the trying to forget routine. Nor any other syntax.
All it takes is one call on her part... Or even anyone asking, if things got better between us. They see hope where I know none exists. Silly them, this time.
I need a way out. It.must come fast enough, because after reading my own diaries from the last few years, I realised this is ME all over the place, a person I would have been ashamed to know I would become one day, if I had known then.
So dear blog, here I am, venting, hyperventilating... And in no less dire need OF a ventilator apparatus, which in this case, is an unfortunate you. I agree, I have to accept and move on, and dear blog, lets hope it works out for both of us. I want back some OF that old ME... The one that laughed so loud that someone's deaf grandpa would wake up and ask who's there... The one that would strumm the guitar once again to Ave Maria, Greensleeves, or Lovestory, and ek je chhilo raaja... The one to spin a poem to calm any emotional upheaval... And one that tried to hold on to the sweeter and curious bits of life through 3rd person humour and photography. Oh that, I miss so badly.
And since then, LIFE hasnt been any smooth either. Its no surprise, given there's not an hour that dare pass when I dont think of her. Things feel like yesterday, and then a moment later its a scribble on a forgotten papyrus. Silly me, but true.
I had tried some funny ideas trying to work my way around this hurdle life brought me. Or I brought upon myself, says the new me. But no amount of being busy came to assist. Neither did the trying to forget routine. Nor any other syntax.
All it takes is one call on her part... Or even anyone asking, if things got better between us. They see hope where I know none exists. Silly them, this time.
I need a way out. It.must come fast enough, because after reading my own diaries from the last few years, I realised this is ME all over the place, a person I would have been ashamed to know I would become one day, if I had known then.
So dear blog, here I am, venting, hyperventilating... And in no less dire need OF a ventilator apparatus, which in this case, is an unfortunate you. I agree, I have to accept and move on, and dear blog, lets hope it works out for both of us. I want back some OF that old ME... The one that laughed so loud that someone's deaf grandpa would wake up and ask who's there... The one that would strumm the guitar once again to Ave Maria, Greensleeves, or Lovestory, and ek je chhilo raaja... The one to spin a poem to calm any emotional upheaval... And one that tried to hold on to the sweeter and curious bits of life through 3rd person humour and photography. Oh that, I miss so badly.
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