Who could have known?
Maybe we could have been happier. Nevertheless, that could have been impermanent. All the hope- call it “spark” is gone out there somewhere in the mist of an ocean that is wide, endless and dark. It is not swimming against the current as it usually happens in the romance movies and books, neither is it fighting for its own free existence anymore. It has vanished somewhere at the bottom of nowhere in the grand vast dark and blue ocean. Don’t think it might still be found one random day by some scuba divers as it was the case with Titanic, because again this is no movie.
Fire burned it- our passion for each other- into little unseen ashes, then flew it towards the air; from where it had gone to the ocean, perhaps. Therefore, you can find the ashes of little pieces where there is no restoration possible, ever. This is not Titanic after all. All it can and it will be is memories in our heads for awhile, then possibly soon enough will it be left to the wolves to be eaten out there in the wild. We will move on. Memories will be left behind. Ashes will be stirred up, waves in the oceans will be moved; nothing floats everything drowns.
This is how it is done. There is no going back. As the saying goes, where there is will there is way. No one mentioned the outcomes when there is no will, yet it is not that easy to figure out. If there is no will power, there is no power in whatever it is. For us it was “us”. For you, it is “you”. For me it is nothing but questions these days. Goodbyes can be the echoes of ashes for now, in which you might see contact here and there. Then, the contact will disappear as well. Life is the totality of all that there is right? All that “there was” moments take place in the past tense. We are past tense. We were tense. Now we are tense in the past.
Great to be alive though.
Patterns only make us aware of more patterns. Once one is broken it is a hope that we get to break the others without realizing that we are burning the bridges to build new ones, breaking patterns to create new ones. Therefore, here I write on a notepad all that there is and there was about us so then I can build my own bridges soon enough, then maybe to burn them to build new ones with someone else. At the exact moment though, I can assure that my own bridges will take awhile to be built up again. Burning them, not considering their importance to self and believing in the possibility of impossible love stories, I am torn. Time can only help but it is not the medicine I need. It is me, the greater will power in me and the higher power that is bigger than me. In that power I trust, becoming a new pattern in my own shell is the greatest gift that I could ever give to self, my self. The only self I really have. Little love, little peace of mind and just the right amount of hope will just do me fine.
Self- courage is the teacher I love the most among the others. It gets me in trouble when it whispers me to go for a new person in a relationship, but afterwards it does not waste no time to heal me to make me better than any healers I could pay, stronger and self- effective. Now that it is time to move on to me, I can only get excited. All I need is new playlists, new songs, new photo albums and new breakfasts. By the time I am me again, I shall see the light at the end of the tunnel called, “relationship”.
How could I have known one day my patterns would have given me a chance to explore more than there was? Thank you love. Thank you the Highest of all the High Powers.
Lastly, thankful for “my sleeping” patterns: NOW IT IS THE TIME THAT I let go. I wake up. I am ready to receive.