Today, I realised what these past few months were trying to tell me. A turbulent flutter of emotions, all a facade for one underlying, morbid truth. All good things come to an end. A gambler’s winning streak, a professional athlete’s career, the relationships with the people around you (whether through death or falling out). Nothing good lasts an eternity. And it seems to me that the more you fight, the more you cling onto the notion that what you have will disobey social norms, the more you let your naive self believe in the foolish lie that what you have is different than what the other 7 billion plus people in the world have, the more you lose. Like an athlete trying to play beyond his years, or a man trying to save himself from his terminal illness, you are bound to fail, with the best outcome simply postponing the inevitable.
And I am tired of looking for silver linings in clouds, tired of seeing a half empty cup and trying to picture it half full. Good things will come, but I need to stop being so affected when they go, for every hello has its goodbye and even the brightest flame…. will eventually turn to dust