Days have passed and the fact seems to be so much different from the feeling. Perhaps the mind already lost track of time or perhaps the heart already badly bruised until numb; seconds become hours, minutes become days, hours become weeks, and days become months, years or decades.
"Don't hurt yourself again. Don't think about it anymore. Let it slips through your mind. Let it fades away in time."
It's undeniable that determination is needed whenever one wants to accomplish something. But life is just filled with unexpected cases. Those sentences...they were said or thought of by others and self. Those sentences...they are meant to be mentioned in mind whenever one's emotionally shook, in order to strengthen the determination to open up these ten fingers. However, they just seem to be mud on a piece of glass, which leaves not even a stain once washed by time. However, they are like leeches, which sips away the strength of the determination once there.
Perhaps, there's reluctance to further push oneself to let go, just like what being commonly thought of. Perhaps, the strength to let go is just no there, because of the person is just too weak. Perhaps, pride and ego become the barrier. And perhaps, there's an invincible chain of promise, which locked in the past. However, everything is just a "perhaps" because the narrator doesn't even know the true story behind, because what answered may not believed by others, even by the person that means the most.
Cuts will heal in time, pain will fade in time. However, some feeling will not disappear in time, the most is just for it to lies dormant. There's no specific duration being filled in this questionnaire of heartache; the song favored, the pictures taken, still wrapped with barbed wire; the new updates, the new replies, still deliver poison with no antibody. Everything just seems to be a piece of the artwork entitled "Pain" and nobody knows when this shattered artwork could be put into whole, which will then be kept in the storeroom of memory.
It is like waiting for a bus that will never come; the hope of being together, being able to cherish again, being able to care again, and being able to love again, would just remain as a hope for unknown time or a time that will never come. Day after day without the known concern, week after week without the missed voice, month after month without the recognition of existence once given, all these will always be the view of this route taken for years to come, or even until the end of a lifetime...
"If letting go and moving forward requires huge strength and bravery, then may I be that weakling, who refuse to loosen up his ten fingers. Perhaps, it's true that I'm living in the past, because of what I believe, because of my hope. I'll move on, holding tight on to this unrealistic hope, continuing my journey on this never ending path, as every ounce of my bravery and strength will be poured on to this, which would considered as a fool's way. Sorry, I ain't no warrior, I'm just a peon who is determined to hold on something that only believed and known by himself."
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