Sometimes, no matter how hard you try you don't get what you want.
Recently I may have run after things that I believed were good for me but it all turned out sour at the end of it.
I can't even say "at the end of it" because I never even got there.
Yes, there is a tremendous disjunct, a feeling of dissatisfaction, a lack of closure.
One might wonder if things so new, so embryonic in its existence could have the potential to effect someone so much.
But it's not the matter itself that is the problem, the problem is the nature of its existence, its form, its arch, its premature end.
I have made my mistakes, I know. But I never believed I could be worthy of this kind of punishment.
No one deserves to be in an emotional limbo and yet when I tried to free myself from it, why do I feel like I haven't budged an inch from where I was?
So I pacified myself by talking, by talking of good times, by talking rubbish but somewhere it didn't help.
Deep inside I am aware that it was all wrong, unworthy of probably even this blog post.
However, what makes this post worthwhile is the fact that writing has tremendous cathartic powers and with this I now have my closure.
