Two years have gone by since I coldly shut you out and almost one year since you firmly said goodbye without looking back.
I say "I'm over it, I'm over it". But it's never been truly over, I think. If love is like energy, it too must transform... Into what though? Because what I feel makes my throat hurt, although it makes me intensely caring and understanding -more than ever-. Your words, actually you, fuel me somehow.
I know there's no way to let you down, because you're gone, but you said I should go after my dreams and be happy. I do my best to live by those words. I do my best no to be what I was. I did learn and I did change (just as you've changed, I guess...). Thinking that, I realized: "Perhaps I'm not entirely over it; perhaps I'll never be over it..., but, oh, how I've moved on".
And so, I'm torn, because I want to fulfill at least one of my dreams before dying..., but I also want to die so bad that I hope that mayan apocalypse is true. XD
