by HelluvaGirl

In hindsight, all those songs used to be woven with unacknowledged hope and thrilling expectation of what the future would bring.

Now they make me sad. No, I haven’t lost my way of faith: I will continue passionately until I have no passions. But I get very sad sometimes still.

Sometimes I cry till I can smell the ocean in my nose, giving farewell to everything that happened somewhere, I am sure; but not in this reality, not really. That’s why the songs are blue now: they are a very emotionally charged reminder of what never had a chance. Point B disclosing that point A was such a childishly naive place… Point B, a desert of ice; a cold funeral of dreams.

Will those melodies be telling something else tomorrow? Or next spring? Is there still something to be consoled by? To reach a point where you laugh and say: oh my, those were heavy times – if only we knew what was ahead…

You know how you don’t talk any more? Not because you fall out but simply because everything has been said and there are just no more words to exhaust? When everything has been said and nothing has been done…

It’s a cold winter in my heart. In its vastness, I see how senseless and damaging any hope can be. I can see the road signs to a point X where I don’t care about anything, don’t crave anything and just wait to be asleep. I’ve never felt so old.

What a terrible, terrible gift would be seeing the future… It’s enough for me to know that I will never again be capable of really losing myself in the hope. If we couldn’t come true, not much else really matters to begin or end with.

How crippling – to be left out with just a memory of what was never even supposed to happen… I have to burry a part of me that was so alive yesterday, but now is completely redundant.

I can’t help asking myself why sometimes – though I am the one with all the answers. I guess the joke’s on me.

Had you known then, would you’ve changed the flight dates?