we make our own narratives.
The fact that each year consists of the same dates, returning year after year,
All my attempts to let go of the past have failed miserably,
It's a convenient, rethorical question,
So, perhaps there's a reason why I won't let go of those aching memories.
"Feelings are choices that you don't get to make", I read somewhere.
- a good story.
forces me to think back and remember all the things that happened on this very day.
This is my 28th November 13th, but the only thing I seem to recall is #26,
in a tiny room in Vienna, with a cross on the wall (so much for holiness..)
All my attempts to let go of the past have failed miserably,
and I find that each time I gladly dig up the same bittersweet memories,
always asking myself, why does nothing matter as much as this?
It's a convenient, rethorical question,
demanding no answer and making any chosen context sound heavy with significance.
And I crave that weight.
I want to be so close to the ground to almost crumble under the burden of my own feelings.
Agony is not optional, it just means you're doing it right.
So, perhaps there's a reason why I won't let go of those aching memories.
Maybe he is destined to play this part in my life.
Without him there would be no plot. Should I let him be the muse of this story, - my story?
"Feelings are choices that you don't get to make", I read somewhere.
But what if we really do choose our feelings?
What if I chose everything that happened?
Why do I keep choosing him time after time,when I am never rewarded?
What does he give me that nobody else will?
- a good story.
the perfect point of departure and a narrative.
Kommentarer
Trackback
