They say real detachment is when you let the pain wash over you and penetrate you fully, so that when you emerge from that grief you are then fully able to gain its experience, learn and let go.
I have never played by the rules, and this is no exception.
Call me a coward, but I love to run. Not literally. But I love to run away. Sprint off with such a speed that the dust I leave behind me smogs over and hazes over everything, so that when I look back, they are hidden from view.And each time the dust threatens to settle, I just continue that whole vicious cycle all over.It appears foolproof, but my stamina dwindles.
Yes it does appear that it's easy for me. But just because of that additional word appear doesn't deny that fact that it's a groundless accusation thrown.
My heart clouds over at the mere memory of you, but it will rarely show on my face, and even if it does, I will turn it away.
Old habits die hard. And it's also difficult to shake off the companionship that has been built. Plus what we had was so much more than that. It was actually called love.
But love, in all its greatness, only acts as a shadow, a mask to hide all the personality conflicts., and sadly, that mask isn't permanent. In truth, we both knew that the relationship was dying before us, and neither of us could summon the energy . Maybe you claimed you could, but you also know that it has reached a stage we leave with happy memories and heavy hearts, as opposed to one overridden with bitterness and soreness residing in the hearts.

But for now, this is how I choose to handle this.
Excuse me while I go run..