“It’s a very complicated thing [but] when you find happiness in someone’s company you don’t think of the repercussions regardless of the complications.”

(Lacierda, 2014)

There are reasons to believe that these difficulties are pure fiction, mere figments of the imagination. When we’re all sobered up from being drunk in happiness, we tend to search for proofs to ground these pensive events into reality.

All these trivial details will soon be overwritten by more powerful experiences or turned into basic summaries with the least imaginable courtesy to whatever sentiment dominated back when everything was real. But just as the bewitching sight of the full moon the other night was overcast by an unexpected encounter, I find consolation in the premise that a future episode will cast this experience into oblivion.

It is juvenile to believe in the existence of plot twists when there are no such things, only things that were meant to be. And if it was meant to be that it wasn’t meant to be, then so be it. It’s about time that we accept that there are a lot of things in life we can’t control even if we killed ourselves thinking.

In the meantime, we shove all these intricacies aside and haplessly continue conditioning our minds that we’re satisfied with neglect and frigidity, and deny any thoughts of touching, of holding hands, and of being with each other just because we’re all too scared pulverizing whatever debris there is left in whatever this convoluted BS is called.

Nevertheless, there’s this sweet devastation with knowing that this indifference will stop hurting in due time.


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