At present moment I am being forced to step back and reflect on change, and how constants are never really constant. Even when someone grasps your sweaty hands in a sticky, low lit bar toilet and promises to be by your side forever, in hindsight forever only meant another couple of years. If we were friends in every lifetime, then maybe we will have longer in the next one.
Perhaps the reason I hope so vividly for people to stay with me forever is because I know that no matter what, my love for them will never leave no matter how hard I try to abandon it. I can scorch it with the burning wind of my rage, or poison it with the sickness of my disgust. I can scratch away at it till it barely exists, but still it lingers. I can patch up the hole that they left with as many bricks as I can find along my path, but it will always stick out like a sore thumb.
To attribute value to a love once held, despite the disappearance of a person, is in and of itself a form of love.
I value every moment I spent with you, and I for the world I would never take it back. I revel in every bit of laughter we shared. And I will hold onto it as it drips from my fingers, until I’ve wrung it out, completely dry.
Why was it you who had to be a lesson. The passage of time proves itself again to be cruel. Of every single person, I would always imagined it would be you that was left standing. And when you left, so too did any belief I ever held in the concept of permanency
