(no subject)
he is my self-inflicted pain, my preposterous diversion, my momentary bliss, my blameworthy experience, my poisonous religion, he is my annoyance, and yet he remains to be... my only happiness.
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I still long for those feelings of contentedness and pure bliss, yet feel the antagonism of pure agony. A good friend once said that letting go of someone is not letting go of the feelings that you have for that person but accepting the fact that that person can never be yours. There will come a time wherein sooner or later, we need to stop wishing for that someone not because you are no longer inlove, but because you know that that someone will be better off without you but with her... If this is the case, I guess it is time to finally let go of him. I must say goodbye one last time. Never to the love I have for him, but to the longings of wanting him in my life. Part of me still longs to hold on; to keep on fighting. But now I realize that this is the part wherein there is nothing more I can do but to smile and be happy for him, even if his happiness means my absence.
--lain