Monday, November 21


because i know that soon, one day, someday, you will just be a memory, i will devote all of my senses to look at you from afar, to detach from the world that i thought we created together, albeit for just a moment, and just look at you with the fondness that i still have for you.

you see, the tragedy of detachment lies in its suspended sadness: in the poignant but painful memory of recalling how once, in a place that used to be familiar, you and i shared something that was beautiful, however brief it was, and no matter how fleeting, or impossible, it seemed to be.

you are beautiful, you will always be that in my mind -- but sometimes, the world does not operate by the parameters of the ideal, because most times, the paradox of attachment lies in being broken to the truth that not all beautiful things are made to happen, and even when they do, they do not last for long.

i shall devote all of my senses into observing intently, with all the attention that a child can muster, how everything is starting to be forgotten, and how, even with a resolution that seems to defy the intrusion of the extraneous, our tragedy is in the offing, and nothing, not even our fondness for each other, can stop the inevitable from happening.

stranger, thank you and i wish you the best in everything.