Regret is the word I describe it. I’m sitting in front of the computer trying my best to compose my thoughts. I’m trying my best to put reason all these feelings I have. I do not have an idea how this will come to an end but what I do know is that this is not something that I just made up. This is something that affects every minute detail of my body, every intricate characteristic of everything that makes me who I am. I have started to doubt my true identity because of what I am feeling and although I try so hard to fight this feeling, to just ignore the feeling, I am perfectly aware that this is interconnected with my soul.
As the words are coming out of my head, I remembered the first time I saw her. She was wearing a printed blouse. Her hair had a pony tail and although she wore very little make up, her features were so obvious; she was beautiful, an angel. I’m trying my best not to forget that exact moment where she looked away and when she looked back she wore her smile, the smile that made my heart melt, and the smile that made me realize that the world is not that bad, that somewhere in the world is a taste of paradise even in one brief moment. I feel shivers reminiscing the way she walked away from the table, although full of apprehensions, she was just a sight to behold something that I could go on staring for the rest of my life. The night was a blur; our little conversations did not change anything that I have felt. At the end of it all, I resolved, she was simply the reason why there is a God.
I can no longer make out the words to write some more but what I do know is that in truth this is me. It is not about the people around me or about my aspirations, my dreams, my life, this is simply about me. The me that makes me the one that makes me who I am. I realized that letting go of this is accepting that I am no longer me; I am somebody else and will forever pretend that I am another person, away from what is intended of me in this world. Tonight I go back to my own world hoping that in some distant future regret is no longer the world but rather something to the tune of hope, patience and maybe love.
As the words are coming out of my head, I remembered the first time I saw her. She was wearing a printed blouse. Her hair had a pony tail and although she wore very little make up, her features were so obvious; she was beautiful, an angel. I’m trying my best not to forget that exact moment where she looked away and when she looked back she wore her smile, the smile that made my heart melt, and the smile that made me realize that the world is not that bad, that somewhere in the world is a taste of paradise even in one brief moment. I feel shivers reminiscing the way she walked away from the table, although full of apprehensions, she was just a sight to behold something that I could go on staring for the rest of my life. The night was a blur; our little conversations did not change anything that I have felt. At the end of it all, I resolved, she was simply the reason why there is a God.
I can no longer make out the words to write some more but what I do know is that in truth this is me. It is not about the people around me or about my aspirations, my dreams, my life, this is simply about me. The me that makes me the one that makes me who I am. I realized that letting go of this is accepting that I am no longer me; I am somebody else and will forever pretend that I am another person, away from what is intended of me in this world. Tonight I go back to my own world hoping that in some distant future regret is no longer the world but rather something to the tune of hope, patience and maybe love.
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