Words to cry to...

He is slowly regaining fragments of himself he thought were long gone. His loneliness allows him to re-examine the past. To re-evaluate everything that was done to him, and everything he did to others. This journey will not be easy, for the emotions he is feeling are fresh and completely new. He truly held a heart, and his was held in turn, and even though his lies shattered on the ground, he knows that somehow, against all odds, it will rebuild. Perhaps into something no one has ever seen before. A beating vessel able to overcome even the greatest of encumbrance, steady and firm as it is bombarded by anyone who might claim it next. There are no thoughts of the future, no dreams of how he'll one day find resolution for the chaos that runs amok in his soul. There is only a slight calm and serenity in realising that even though he failed, he cannot be too sad, because above all else, what he felt was real.

Sorry to keep you after you were already gone...

When I take a picture of the city, it disappears.

It's only a photograph, the city is gone.

The places I go are never there.

Nostalgia isn't what it used to be.

I can only picture the disappearing world,

when you touch me.

The places I go are never there.

A tear for the vulnerable...

Most often our greatest and saddest moments come blazing at us at unison. It's sort of a miracle of the heart to nurture happiness and agony - reminiscing about a past long gone. The spectres of who we used to be haunt us, and yet we still can't decide if the pain they caused us out-weighs the tender moments when they touched our soul. This is the irony of love. Because the battle you are going through is not fuelled by the words or actions of others; it is fuelled by the mind that gives it importance. So as many times before I stand at a precipice of a decision. When you know there will forever be a before and an After. I knew there would be no turning back if I designated this moment as my own prime meridian from which everything else would be measured. The cards have been dealt, all there is left to do, is play the hand I was given. Play it with everything I have.

Thursday - waiting for love, waiting for love...

Sometimes you go to beautiful places with people you love, to find yourself falling for them once again, and sometimes you go to places, and fall in with the beauty around you, and find yourself moving on, because in that moment you know that you've fallen in love with something bigger than love. 

You can spend minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even months over-analysing a situation; trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could've, would've happened, should have happened. You can spend your days in worry and stress about what the person who left you behind is doing and thinking. If they ever pine and regret that you are no longer part of their lives. You can throw away days concocting scenarios in your head, how you'll one day meet again, and somehow find each other once more. You can do all those things and slowly kill yourself or you can just leave the shattered pieces of all you once were on the floor and move the fuck on.

Wednesday my empty arms were open...

Tuesday I was through with hoping...

It's time to start getting over you. For days now, a stone had been sitting on my heart, making it so heavy I could barely breathe. I shed a lot of tears over you, lost a lot of sleep, and consumed any substance life threw my way. Somehow, I have to move on. Life will be hell if I don't shake loose from the grip you have over me. I most definitely don't want to keep feeling this way, alone in a love affair meant for two. Even if I was certain you were the one, and even if I always thought we'd end up together. Even if you still have a choke chain on my soul, and not an hour goes by that you don't rush through my mind. Even after all these things, I know I have no other choice but to get out of my bed, rise up towards the sun, and start walking towards something - anything at all.

Monday left me broken...

Open up my eyes and tell me who I am...

How deep is your love?

Is it like the ocean?

What devotion are you?

How deep is your love?

Is it like nirvana?

Hit me harder, again.

How deep is your love?

Is it like the ocean?

Pull me closer, again.

How deep is your love?

All I need is right here...

He awakens from a haze of bewilderment, and as the fog and dust clears he can see his reflection in the sky. He gets up from the ground, still shaky from past hurt, yet oddly acute and aware. He pats through his body, making sure all of his limbs are intact, that none lost their heading during his implosion. There seems to be no immediate harm, bruises here and there, but his outsides remain healthy. Then he searches for his heart, and he is instantly stricken with panic, because he cannot feel a pulse. His breath becomes heavy. His mind starts to cloud. And then ... a beat. So quiet, so faint, like it's afraid to draw attention to itself. It whispers that it needs more time. That it's feigned death in order to survive. He calms down. His breath slows. He closes his eyes and with an almost blasphemous conviction promises that he shall rebuild. He shall grow anew, and one day, when the beating of his heart is strong once again, not even thunder will be able to quench its roar.

On my knees when nobody else is praying...

I don't want to jinx it, even though I probably already have, but I think things might work out in my favour. I still have a lot to learn, and I'd rather reach my dreams knowing that it didn't happen by chance or because of a lucky break. I want to touch the stars because I've worked my ass off and I've earned it. Will there be more heartache? Will I fall and stumble? Undoubtedly. But here I am, still standing, looking towards a future surely worth living. I may not know exactly what it is or where I'll end up, but for now it doesn't really matter. I am a work in progress, and I'm not ashamed of that. There will come a time when I'll be able to look at myself and burst from pride. Until then, this is the journey and this is my game face, and that's completely fine with me.

Our final bow...

It has finally come. The full wave of emotions that subsided in order for me to even survive recent hardships. I can feel the cracks in the wall and water flowing through. I try to patch up the leaks, but as I've learned band-aids can't fix bullet holes, and soon a hurricane shall envelop me. I cannot imagine how I will react or how I'll be able to stand, yet as of now all I'm hoping for is the grace to not succumb to every lesser instinct that takes hold of my soul. I can survive, because I've survived worse, and despite everything, there was a reason this happened, perhaps deep down I even wanted it to, but that does not change the fact that losing you hurts - not because I lost a partner, more so because I lost a friend.

The truth is, unless you let go, unless you forgive yourself, unless you forgive the situation, unless you realize that the situation is over, you cannot move forward. Because some birds are not meant to be caged, that's all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure.

Goodbye our paradise...

The credits all roll down...

No heroes, villains, one to blame,

while wilted roses filled the stage,

and the thrill, the thrill is gone.

Our début was a masterpiece,

but in the end for you and me,

oh, the show, it can't go on.

We used to have it all, but now's our curtain call,

so hold for the applause,

and wave out to the crowd, and take our final bow,

it's our time to go, but at least we stole the show.

Wilted roses fill the stage...

Ljubezen ne pomeni vedno biti zaljubljen.

Včasih je odločitev.

Time is moving slower than ever. I look for your face as I gaze among the crowd, with no rationality or intent, just the simple need to look upon you once again. My mind wanders as the breeze, and I can't help myself but to think about what I could have done differently. I remember all our best moments, and there were so many, yet all I feel is a deep sadness. Memories I thought I would cherish forever have been tarnished by the fact that I was left, for no apparent cause or reason other than that I wasn't good enough. While I can understand and accept your decision, I don't think I'll be ever able to forgive it. You promised me the world, and I believed you. Now I wonder how can one trust again? Love again? Feel again? How can one get over such a lie?

At least we stole the show...

Bound by the surprise of our glory days...

He is lost in transition, and as the shock and adrenaline that safeguarded his heart start losing hold, he finally feels the full impact of recent developments. He tries to block the resentment and anger, but they are far too powerful to ignore. They reshape his memories and sprout seeds of discomfort and a deep sadness. Once again he wasn't good enough, and while he can rationally accept that isn't the case, his emotions have always been more profoundly embedded in the process of his rebirth. What is there to learn from this, how does he grow? He runs to his newest addictions, hoping they provide comfort - even if temporarily and without question falsely. Perhaps there is something more he can do? Something he can say? Something that would change the trajectory of this story? Maybe there is still hope? A glimmer of light that can breach through the darkness? He was never good at giving up, and while his entire life has been preparing him for this very moment, one truth he discovered long ago rings true - you don't have to move on, to let go.