At this intersection, I've been at a stop longer than maybe I should be. But there is something about the lights ahead, that make me sit here and think. I've made up my mind to stop wasting the pages that are filled with your name and feelings written. If what you intended was to have me turn to that which is populated with pain and hate, then you should win an award for how well you've done so. There isn't much left but anger. These eyes have showered themselves dry. I've cared so much that all I have left are selfish thoughts. It would be a lie to say that I won't think about you anymore. But I can say that there will no longer be a smile to accompany those thoughts. You gave, and took, the happiness I had been searching for. So I'll use the anger to ignite the engine, and I'll drive off to somewhere I can forget. Don't expect any postcards, I'll save those for people who matter.
mis-er-y
[miz-uh-ree]
-noun, plural
- wretchedness of condition or circumstances.
- distress or suffering caused by need, privation, or poverty.
- great mental or emotional distress; extreme unhappiness.
You're moving forward.
ReplyDeleteAnd when the anger subsides,
You will be free.
I'm still here.
Always.
Keep writing Daniel.
ReplyDeleteIt's good for you.