What I refuse to believe

I would like to write some last word of kindness to you now that they’re the last ones I’ll ever write in this matter and probably you’ll never come here again, so you’ll never read them, but just so you know they are for you, and this you I’m talking about is you and no other you. Anyway, I still would like to write one or two words that could decipher and describe you and your affect on my life.

…Passion, pain, joy, helplessness, perhaps love, knowledge, nostalgia…

None of them seem to matter now. Quoting Regina, you’re not mine now. And you’ll never be again, but it doesn’t matter anymore, because I realized now I can finally close your chapter in my life and I can write on myself again, I can discover myself as much as I want. You were my history and all that could represent life, but now this is goodbye. It feels like a dream, a good one. So say hello and have a nice life.
Come to think of it, I’d rather you didn’t read this, it’s for the best.

Soundtrack: A tendency to start fires (Bush), The Counting Story of Bungalow Bill (The Beatles), Rat Tomago (Frank Zappa), Passend Gemacht (Silbermond).

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