Prebye

If a blog bud of mine is contemplating the bitter-sweetness of living in another's country, I'm just left with a pout of an expression thinking that as mid-September comes, my reality sinks. Marking the end of summer, I'll be heading back where I've been based the last 3.5 years, only to make a round digit and flee.

By then, I promise to embed an open heart, a sanctuary filled with escapades of masked memories.

On self-destruct

It is in the early stages of breaking up that emotions lose sight of its belt and make path to faux-logic. You start thinking the 'whys' and 'hows' to try being logically sane before giving up to an early night's sleep and find yourself still up 12 hours later plus 3 boxes empty of tissue and a really really fragile mood and eye contour. Process auto-repeats.

Then you take it back. Anger seeps and vengeful thoughts roam your now hollow heart. Bridge of connection shatters, leaving 2 horrid cliffs at the edge of 2 now distinct unity. You tremble at the cliff, wondering the distance you now have to walk merely to be at its edge. You sit yourself and find an unwilling tear fall from the edge of your eyes.

It's done, you whisper.


Then tears begin to shed.

***
Dear F,
It's only over for you when you say it is. Feel proud you played the game fairly..
That is all.

Love,
Mia