With hindsight
It's a week since I moved into this new house, and I've settled in fairly quickly. Although my room isn't soundproof, I barely hear noises from the outside of room when I close the door, which is great. I'm grateful and happy to have a my-room. Recently I'm quite into House, M.D., and I have to say it's a great series. The main character reminds me so much about myself, though I'm not such a jerk. I like him, though. Even though he shows as if he couldn't care less, he does care in a very subtle, unique way. I actually prefer this kinda people, easier to get along for me.
I thought of a friend whom I'm no longer in contact with. We had a falling out when we were in high school, almost graduating. It was the most painful experience in my life, other than the family stuff. For a good 5 years, I couldn't forget what happened, and there was a certain scene that kept repeating itself in my mind, whenever I think about how we ended up in. There was remorse, regret and bitterness. I blamed myself for the things I did, and at the same time I blamed others for not giving me a chance. Then gradually I thought it's only those who worth loving should be given a chance, and apparently I wasn't.
For years I'd been holding on to memories that I should have let go. I thought if I had let go that easily, it'd only mean that I didn't treasure the relations as much as I thought. I didn't want to let go, I didn't want to forget, and so I kept dreaming maybe, maybe one day we'd see each other like we used to. Those happy moments to me were irreplaceable. But then I thought it might be just me who'd been imagining and beautifying the relationship I craved for, instead of being realistic and caring. I was selfish, in a way that I didn't realise; I was arrogant and prideful, which I deemed to be the only qualities I need in order to not appear weak. The fact that I was upset and depressed about the falling out, and realising that I still blamed others for not helping enough only did make me feel pathetic and self-destructive. Then one day, I came upon an article about how we should close cycles when a chapter in our life ends. That article was enlightening, I felt it's fine for me to finally let go what I'd been holding onto; those fun and happy memories which I'd been trying to retain and even dreamt of getting back, were after all an illusion. I'm thankful to the author of that article. It told me it's okay to let go things which were once important to you and it's okay to forget and forgive yourself. Even though forgiving myself is still the hardest thing to do and I still feel a great pang of loss whenever I recall what happened, I'm trying to move on. I'm still far away from arriving at a place where I think I can stop feeling guilty and be happy, but I'll give myself a couple more years to figure those out.
I wish I can be like the song Kris Allen sung: Live like we're dying.
"You never know a good thing 'til it's gone
You never see a crash 'til it's head on
Why do we think we're right when we're dead wrong?
You never know a good thing 'til it's gone"
I thought of a friend whom I'm no longer in contact with. We had a falling out when we were in high school, almost graduating. It was the most painful experience in my life, other than the family stuff. For a good 5 years, I couldn't forget what happened, and there was a certain scene that kept repeating itself in my mind, whenever I think about how we ended up in. There was remorse, regret and bitterness. I blamed myself for the things I did, and at the same time I blamed others for not giving me a chance. Then gradually I thought it's only those who worth loving should be given a chance, and apparently I wasn't.
For years I'd been holding on to memories that I should have let go. I thought if I had let go that easily, it'd only mean that I didn't treasure the relations as much as I thought. I didn't want to let go, I didn't want to forget, and so I kept dreaming maybe, maybe one day we'd see each other like we used to. Those happy moments to me were irreplaceable. But then I thought it might be just me who'd been imagining and beautifying the relationship I craved for, instead of being realistic and caring. I was selfish, in a way that I didn't realise; I was arrogant and prideful, which I deemed to be the only qualities I need in order to not appear weak. The fact that I was upset and depressed about the falling out, and realising that I still blamed others for not helping enough only did make me feel pathetic and self-destructive. Then one day, I came upon an article about how we should close cycles when a chapter in our life ends. That article was enlightening, I felt it's fine for me to finally let go what I'd been holding onto; those fun and happy memories which I'd been trying to retain and even dreamt of getting back, were after all an illusion. I'm thankful to the author of that article. It told me it's okay to let go things which were once important to you and it's okay to forget and forgive yourself. Even though forgiving myself is still the hardest thing to do and I still feel a great pang of loss whenever I recall what happened, I'm trying to move on. I'm still far away from arriving at a place where I think I can stop feeling guilty and be happy, but I'll give myself a couple more years to figure those out.
I wish I can be like the song Kris Allen sung: Live like we're dying.
"You never know a good thing 'til it's gone
You never see a crash 'til it's head on
Why do we think we're right when we're dead wrong?
You never know a good thing 'til it's gone"