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Sometimes I think I'm relieved that it turned out this way. I get this painful burning ache in my chest when I think like that but really was it the best choice? Did I make the best choice? Did I do all that I could or did I skimp on resources? Sometimes I wonder if it would have turned out better or at least different in a not quite as painful way if I had been just a little more courageous. A little less scared of losing. If I'd been more focused on the win, I might have been in for rather than the battle I was stuck in at the time. I'm not sure I deserved what I got but what the hell difference does my opinion on the subject matter anyway. It could have gone better though I know that. It could have been less painful. Hurtful. Terrifying. I never was a fan of saying that it's too late but screw that because it is and I regret the hell out of my choices. I can't do anything about anything, though. I'm just stuck in a spiral of feeling sorry for myself and sorry for what I did. But she doesn't care about my apologized. About how I feel. IO guess I can't really blame her for that; I didn't use to care about hers either. Maybe I wouldn't be freezing now if I hadn't been chasing shadows and passed opportunities. Maybe the hatred would fade away slowly like embers dying in the ashes of the fire that once raged on. Could something bloom in the defeat and loss of love and lust and life? Could something beautiful spring from something so very ugly or am I just convincing myself that the ashes are really snow? Maybe they're neither. Maybe the ashes fell into the snow, and they merged, and the virgin snow tried to absorb the evil that had landed so peacefully in the middle of something so pure and innocent turning it into a pile of vile hatred. Maybe I'm poisonous, and the air I exhale is like venom. Maybe there is darkness in the words slipping past my silver tongue. The one I'm not convinced is made of metal heavier than my heart. The heart that barely even seems to be beating these days. My blood is slowly inching closer to a stop, and I'm not even scared of it anymore. It's like the Crimson is running thick in my veins. Much too thick. It's all grinding to a halt. Maybe I managed to lose because I stopped being scared of falling. Now I'm crashing through the roof feeling so high that I'm going to have to fall so far when I come back down. My choices weren't perfect. I wasn't perfect. And even seen through rose colored glasses, she wasn't perfect. I was walking a thin thin line, and it didn't matter which side I fell to or what side I crossed over to. When you fall, it hurts equally regardless of which side you lose your balance to. Falling always hurts. | ||||||||||||||
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