It’s imperative that you don’t return to what you were before things happened, before you knew this much, and cared and loved so deeply.
Denying the eyes who once motivated you to be what you are now is a mistake. It may be the sanest thing to do according to your mind, but your heart will find it so obnoxious.
Revel in what is past and don’t blame yourself nor her for the way things went down. Stop wronging yourself trying to find reason in what none of you expect to have a plausible explanation.
Don’t ever regret what you were taken to do or say, as long as you’ve acted respectfully and out of love.
However, it poisons me to assume that it’s all over, only because I tried to make love happen. Prospects of impossible love ruined a healthy friendship as I selfishly demanded too much from her, something beyond what she could give me. I should have just shut up even if it’d kill me to cynically look at her, pretending to feel nothing anymore. I should have tried harder to find the vitreous coldness I needed, and steal it from inside those two worlds, cerulean infinities, her eyes. But I couldn’t do it! I couldn’t avoid but staring at her, and losing myself in… what seemed to be everything I was born to have. Nothing was ever capable of messing with my rational spirit, I’m so sharp and absent, but then she shone on my life, only to thaw me, and leave me here, a liquified tepid figure but yet so full of what she unintentionally gave me. She offered me myself; I wouldn’t have found me if not for her, and I’m forever indebted to her for that.
Loving this way is too damn pricey though! Feeling so estranged, everywhere, a haunting sensation that will never truly leave me. My emotions all swapped, leaving me no other chance but to wear a mask, every time, a hide used to fool the fool, but especially to amuse myself. Going to bed to not fall asleep. To not stop thinking of her, not until those late hours of wondering tire my frightened eyes to a point where they see no other alternative but to shut down. Imagining her, laying in bed too, I try so hard to envision her situation at the moment. What is flying through that beautiful mind of hers just now?
Love is about unconditional admiration, contaminating eternal joy which somehow found its path to heal you, for good.
She may now resent you, but you’ll always care for her and deep down, you know she still does too, even if both of you are supposed to deny it.
Long lost times can’t be erased nor unfelt, for they built you. You are all those forgotten little laughs and intense glances.
You now are what once was. You are her and she is you, undoubtedly, and for as long as you dare to be yourself…