LETTING THE CLUTTER GO

            It’s depressing. The person you least expect to pull you off the pedestal turns out otherwise, seemingly too uncalled for. And with vague reasons, it hurts more. Considering the unbelievable fact that he betrayed you, even in whatever angle you try to look for an excuse to redeem his spite, there it hurts most. The angst just swells up in your heart and it could not break free all because you would not want to loosen your grip on the happy memories. And on the friendship that you never thought, even in dementia, might just be a part of your past. With all fingers pointed at you, you stand defenseless, there’s no point in convincing them to believe or trust you. They never would anyway. It’s just a matter of letting things be and allowing time, alone, heal whatever it is to be mended.

            Much has been said, damage has mounted. Devastation still leaves you hanging and floating in mid air with mouth wide open in disbelief. Shaking your head, you try to let the clutter go but realization hit you awful hard: good things never last indeed. With emptiness overpowering your entirety, all you can afford is a soft, painful sob…

 

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