Nostalgia At Its Peak

I woke up last night desperately gasping for air. I was literally like an innocent fish taken out of water. Puffing air ravenously for my very life.  It's the same feeling you get when you force yourself to stay under water until just about the very last second that your physical body would allow you to. Not really a feeling to be ecstatic about. It is another wake up call reminding me that no matter how audacious I am, how viciously I try to fight for something, there are certain alive and inanimate things in life that cannot be defied.

I remember quite a discrete portion of my dream.  Perhaps a futile attempt of my nostalgic yearning. I saw him. And it was not a pleasant view. All the actualities that I hid and buried came back all at the same time. The clashing of why's and how-could-he's smacked me right in the face. Strikes and blows that I wish I had the strength to evade.

I was cut soul-deep. Helplessly pierced right through the core. I am bleeding ceaselessly. Leaving a trail of somber and solitude wherever I go. It marks the spots where all these agony has reached and conquered.

And the most crazy part of this ridiculously bleak melancholy-filled post, my diminishing ego put aside, I wholeheartedly know and believe that it is still him and only him who could indubitably end all these pain.

Yes. I know what all of you are thinking. How could I possibly be this gullible? What the hell's wrong with you, Rose? Oh believe me.. I ask myself the same question every single excruciating day.