What should I do,
when your laughter is my regret,
when your peace is my agitation,
when your love is my destruction?
I didn’t fully expect that this time would come, where my rose-colored glasses of you will be shattered. But it did, and I used to think that if this time would come, I would be ecstatic, happy, and finally free. But why is it all I feel is my heart shattering into a million thousand pieces of sadness, as the illusion slam me in the face full force, and I am left with nothing but a vast black hole from my shattered dreams.
I could almost hear again the snow falling, landing softly on the cold concrete floor of that unknown alley. He was walking away from me, and I couldn’t help but to just stare at him, at his broad shoulders, and his slow walking gait as if something was paining him. I could almost hear him sigh every now and then.
He was walking away, and I had a vague feeling that he’s walking away from me.
I wished, even until now, that he would stop and turn so I could see his face. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t. He walked on and on, as I stared on and on until his figure vanished and melted and blurred with the vast whiteness under the night sky.
That’s my mind’s first memory and probably my heart’s last.
– – –
Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did so.