The Juxtapose Of Absence

I would like to write everything here. In clear chilling clarity. But I must not. I can't.

All these emotions. All these feelings that are gurgling out. Who can I tell them to? I would like to tell it to somebody who I can trust. Somebody who will be sympathetic. Somebody who will understand.

Once again, I'm reminded of all those fervent feelings I had, maybe not so long ago. But they felt distant till that very moment. But one thing I learnt was - old habits die hard.

I blamed myself for letting my guard down. For softening my heart. Absence might make the heart grow fonder, but presence brings back all that it will never be.

It alarms me indeed that once again, I have to turn to my old trusty diary to dispel of all those emotions. That was what writing does to me. It soothes and relieves. And when I reread my new entry, the handwriting had become more ugly, certainly; the wording perhaps more mature but the content essentially the same.

Had things not changed at all? In all the span of these years?

I thought I was going forward. One has got to keep on moving. It strikes a fear in me that I am still at a standstill.

But no fear. 忍 is a strong word. A hard word. But I have come so far - I cannot fail.

One day, I will be able to make decisions for myself.