Did I serve the term missing-in-action even a tiny bit of justice? I believe so. Heck, I clearly do. Missed me? Well Internet, I did too-- I do. I fucking missed myself too. I missed having this opportunity of being able to channel all my bickering, bitching, ranting or whatever the hell you want to call this modern-savage way of releasing both the stress and the "distresses" of life- of this crookedly presented shenanigan people call life. Okay. I will say this now and never repeat it again. I will not even attempt to read my previous excruciatingly existing posts. No matter what I do or even try to wish for to disappear, no genie is powerful enough to make all the pain go away. Now I hope you guys aren't thinking my whole empty world simply revolves around this one memory. It is verily an undeniable occurrence of the realities of love but will only forever be a mere flake of my entire existence. A simple memory, and not the currently being written memoir. Now enough of this crazy broken-hearted fistful of tears and pain. To put an end to this post-melancholy fragment of my being, I would like to end it with this statement. Okay.
I had finally found love once, though lost it defenselessly. Now, if there is one thing this unfortunate event taught me, it would be that something as inestimable as love will always be worth hurting for, most especially when you know that in the end, you truly, soul-baringly loved and felt loved.
Now this is where my life truly begins.
Chapter 1. The Pulverized-hearted. The Paternal Love Seeking. The Loner. The Life's Purpose Bombarded Rose.
Watch out world. This cuckoo will make a helluva comeback!
