body comparative

Tonight I'm Marilyn confidence and Audrey grace
Tonight I'm an Affair to Remember love
Tonight I'm victorious and overflowing happiness
    and tomorrow is when this movie star life will be over
    and it will be nothing but a long-forgotten dream






People often say that if you don't think about It then It would suddenly cease to exist.
Everyone knows that's not true. But they still try to believe it anyway.
It is the principle of object permanence; that things continue to exists even if it cannot be seen.
That even if you drown myself in thoughts of a happier time, the tide still turns and the memory of him washes up ashore. And by him I mean he or she or it or anyone or anything.
The realisation crashes over you: he is real, out there in the world, somewhere, all flesh and blood, breathing and not thinking about you too. The difference is that you actually put in effort to do so.

I'm sorry that you are haunted by memories because I am too. The distinction between what is real and what is not is blurred so much in dreams. It is unsettling. I wake up wondering if I would wake up once more and find out this life is nothing but another figment of my psyche.

If I could run backwards fast enough to go to the past, I would. But I can't. And for that I am sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry that you can't romanticise hurt. Or loneliness. Or sadness. So sorry, sorry; yesterday can no longer be looked upon in the light of recollection without the taint of the present. Sorry that you are still standing at where he left you.

The thing is that everybody hurts. Resenting this would mean feeling guilty for being human. At least we are the few to have known what it's like to be drunk on vetiver, musk and madness; lying dead on a Queen-sized bed.

For now, we wait. Because one of the beautiful things about being human is that we forget.
And some things are better left forgotten.