There are times that we wish we could just relive the affair for the sake of remembering. Like the most pleasant dream that we couldn't quite grasp when we awoke in a flurry daze--not in a state of clarity over things that might have been already lost in refined attempt anyway.
And, of course, there are times that we rather overlook, choosing to neglect the pulsating ache that never goes away despite effort, despite decisions, and despite time. It permeates in the heavy air but we are still feigning it. We are so good at pretending.
But we, as humans, are a sadist to ourselves, suffering to ourselves. Because we are endlessly stubborn and proud, and nobody knows that we feel this way. We bleed, and we would not acknowledge it. And we would not mind. Almost.
And, of course, there are times that we rather overlook, choosing to neglect the pulsating ache that never goes away despite effort, despite decisions, and despite time. It permeates in the heavy air but we are still feigning it. We are so good at pretending.
But we, as humans, are a sadist to ourselves, suffering to ourselves. Because we are endlessly stubborn and proud, and nobody knows that we feel this way. We bleed, and we would not acknowledge it. And we would not mind. Almost.
