omega

I once knew two people− one was someone I held dearly for a long time, the other I met during a brief yet fateful encounter several years ago. Somehow, these two people left an impression on me, and whatever I could remember about them− eyes, scent, stature− swirled in my sea of memories. Yet, these distinctive physical characteristics were not all that I kept in mind, if only unconsciously. I looked up to these people, wondering about the source of their mystique and admiring their skills at the same time.

Years passed and my heart and soul underwent a complete metamorphosis. Still, bits and pieces from my previous shell remained intact, including the inner compass within me that seeks whatever seems to be beautiful, sublime, and totally different from my current frame of reality.
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Tonight, I mourn for two things− a chance lost forever, and the death of lingering hope. I have been here and there, travelling in search for elusive happiness. After weeks and months of the mental journey, I thought I succeeded at last, but little did I know that I was preparing myself for gloom, confusion and disappointment.

If I had a choice, I would really rather be okay, like my normal self. But sometimes, circumstances in life push you to the very edge, forcing you to hold on bitterly to the last branch of life or suffer from the death of the soul.

I cry, the tears run dry, I sigh, then cry once more. I get frustrated with myself for being trapped in an endless cycle of thinking and hoping without any sign of deliverance.

Enough is enough, really. I don't want to think about these things anymore.