Loss of privilege.

I don't think many people realize that when times get bad, as much as we're running away from something, we are also running towards something else. In this mess of supposed cataclysmic events in our heads, we just concentrate on running away not seeing what we're running towards. It can lead us to something better or something worse. But if you don't know where you want to go, how can you ever get there. I don't know where to go, it doesn't come to me. Sometimes I start walking but the road gives up. What do I look for, where are the signs, even my shadow gives way sometimes and I end up right where I started from, to what I left behind. I couldn't be more grateful.

I'm not afraid of pain or sorrow because I've seen them up close and if that was the lightning then I can smile at the thunder. I built a life based on promises and fell at every step but still learnt to help the fallen. But I've lost the privilege of being sad. If I do, it makes me ungrateful. How dare I be after all that I have. I can feel hurt or bad but not sad. I was once told, long ago, that crying will not help change destiny, that one monologue has kept me from crying since. At least on the outside. Because sometimes we love with nothing more than hope and cry with everything but tears.

He remembers...

He remembers. Everything. Sometimes he hopes he'll forget. That he's felt things that never were. Been to places that don't exist. Imagined a life that never was. But it's alright. Because there are some things he wants to remember. He's hurting but he's not sad. He's not in denial and doesn't blame anyone. He realizes that he can't change what's meant to be. But he tried and that's all anyone can ask of him and he of himself.

He doesn't want to tell anyone about endings. Not where they are now. Maybe drifting along is the best thing that could have happened. To end up somewhere safe. He still feels the same though. He knows about your loss. Just be alright. Being there to make sure is not his choice any longer. Neither is it yours alone. He can't cry on the outside, only on the inside, but even that's selfish because isin't he then not crying for the person that's gone but for himself. If you don't understand that now, you never will. So let him be selfish and cry...and remember...everything.

Who is the third who walks always beside you?
When I count, there are only you and I together
But when I look ahead up the white road
There is always another one walking beside you
Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded
I do not know whether a man or woman
But who is that on the other side of you?

Now and then.

Love is the start of a story, of a kinship not felt before,
That feeling, so special, is something hard to ignore.

I saw things through and gave words I intended to keep,
I saw the world in that person and beauty more than skin deep.

I saw my oasis or was it an illusion,
I thought it was real and there in lied the delusion.

I accepted it as a part of life and wanted to let go,
But it only gets harder and that's something I know.

People will always treat you like you let them treat you,
If you don't take a stand, it's always you they'll screw.

Even it be painful, I'll always let go,
No matter the regret or how big the blow.

In the end I can bear it all except the pain you give,
I know I deserve better but still, you, I'll forgive.

For all the hurt and the promises you broke,
All you achieved was make love seem like a joke.

I'll always be fine, now and then,
You haven't changed anything and I'll love again.

There are people who care and it's me they'll surround,
And remember in life, what goes around, comes around.

In a while I won't remember, it's one of my flaws,
And I got nothing more to say, especially about whatever was...