20241021 - 15:40
Part of me died the day that we broke up. Part of me died, and every day since has been denying its irreperability. The naive belief in the comfort of a warm embrace; in the confirmation of another. She looked at me, and I had purpose. I had worth. Life had purpose. As her eyes shone with recognition my Self found indeniable proof of its existence. I wanted nothing but those eyes; for that look to last forever. Now they are forever gone and I cannot bear its truth. Moving on does not mean repairing that which has been broken, but to accept the damage as that which makes up life. Just as much as what I was given when we met, just as much there’s this. The strength to bear the truth in full; this is all I’m looking for. Not to shy away from the depth of anguish and despair that this feeling of loss brings. Part of me is lost forever, an irrevocable fact. My grasping only serves to deny, not to repair. Reality is here, and my seeing is not what brought it about. Why do I keep walking a path so filled with suffering? Because the suffering was always there, and the only way out is through. I hope I shall survive the journey.