Pop goes the weasel
The initial numbness..masked by excessive chirpiness, nonchalance, the "its all for the best" attitude wears off pretty quickly. What it leaves behind is a constant state of painful waiting. Waiting for things to go back to "normal". Except that you don't even know what normal is anymore.
If time were turned back..would it be normal? Would it be normal if it fast forwarded a few years? So many questions...the answers to which lie in a pandora's box. Torture to not know...will bring on worse if you do.
For some, 4 years is just that..4 years. For some.like me, it is a lifetime, it is your entire life. The end, is like an end of an era. Two people set off on a journey..a journey that led to the discovery of me..the person that I am...or that i have become. When the journey and the person become so intrinsically entwined, letting go is a tedious task. It involves sitting and untangling threads that have been woven into a pattern..and pulling apart anything beautiful is always painful. Pulling it apart one thread at a time even more so.
And the waiting...the pausing at every step..the trepidation at setting foot in a world that has been alien to you for a long time is, to put it mildly, exhausting. It engulfs you like a cloak, a suffocating cloak..this waiting. It bores you to death..this hesitation. But try as you might....its either wait...or jump off the cliff. Jump into a whirlpool of madness, of debauchery, of anything that will keep you from pausing in one place for too long. Anything that will take your mind off the what might have beens. When the demons come to rest in your head..it is the whirlpool that is your refuge. Until the whirlpool becomes your new demon.
What good is knowin everything happens for the good..if it leaves such paralysing sadness behind that waiting for the good to show itself seems pretty much useless.
If time were turned back..would it be normal? Would it be normal if it fast forwarded a few years? So many questions...the answers to which lie in a pandora's box. Torture to not know...will bring on worse if you do.
For some, 4 years is just that..4 years. For some.like me, it is a lifetime, it is your entire life. The end, is like an end of an era. Two people set off on a journey..a journey that led to the discovery of me..the person that I am...or that i have become. When the journey and the person become so intrinsically entwined, letting go is a tedious task. It involves sitting and untangling threads that have been woven into a pattern..and pulling apart anything beautiful is always painful. Pulling it apart one thread at a time even more so.
And the waiting...the pausing at every step..the trepidation at setting foot in a world that has been alien to you for a long time is, to put it mildly, exhausting. It engulfs you like a cloak, a suffocating cloak..this waiting. It bores you to death..this hesitation. But try as you might....its either wait...or jump off the cliff. Jump into a whirlpool of madness, of debauchery, of anything that will keep you from pausing in one place for too long. Anything that will take your mind off the what might have beens. When the demons come to rest in your head..it is the whirlpool that is your refuge. Until the whirlpool becomes your new demon.
What good is knowin everything happens for the good..if it leaves such paralysing sadness behind that waiting for the good to show itself seems pretty much useless.
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