It's nights like these that I hate my own weakness more than anything. I contantly say that I have this inability to let go of thingss in the past, but I have no one to blame except myself. I have memories flashing by from 6 years, 8 months, 4 days ago that make me feel like standing on a cliff-top, arms spread to the wind, and wishing with hope against hope for something to turn back the clock, and allow a second chance. There are tears that are unshed for fear of appearing helpless, but I know the truth: the weakness IS me. I can hide behind a wall of strength that is smiles, laughter, and an outlook on life that is seemingly positive, but in reality, I'm unsure, uncertain, and missing a great deal of people right now.
I'm awoken in the mornings by a memory of something that was really nothing, and by wishes for something more than can ever be. I feel haunted by a shadow, but of what, I could never say. I feel so much lack of closure that I'm beginning to realise that perhaps nothing has a true ending. And even though I'm constantly surrounded by wonderful people, it's nights like these where I've opted to be alone that my mind starts to remind me of what is gone. Flicking through journal articles from years, months, weeks, minutes ago make me realise that I never ever realised what I had at the time of having it. What a cruel joke. This is how you remind me.
And if I was ten times more eloquent and poetic, perhaps I could express just exactly what it is that I'm missing, craving, longing for. But for now? That shall be my secret. Perhaps one day I'll discover strength amongst the weakness.