You see, I can cry on a whim, smile as I please. These emotions are extensions of me, not components. Tender touches, heartbroken pretence; I have mastered them all. I am, to most degrees, now human. Am I not? Are we not all fated to superficial understanding? Will you love the lie until you die? Whimpering and wrenching over the lost illusion. The masquerade of humanity and compassion. The art of loving. It takes great expertise, and I don't doubt its inheritability. I am the boy I have always been, older. Instead, my voice now flourishes, while my sense of hope and affection diminish; and not of waves of spite, but waves of failure, encroached with apathy. I'm in awe of words of sorrow; isolation, solitude, solace. They flow through me, soaking every thought and feeling. It is true that I can smile within this minute. And in the next, it is also true that the soothing sensation of those who empathise will hold me closely; kiss my forehead sweetly, and call me theirs.
Some surprises will never cease to surprise you; there are innumerable and unacknowledged aspects at work - you do not want to recognise them. Thus in effect, perpetual heartbreak is likely yours. Transformations may occur, but I know, that to me, you will be who I knew, not who you are. For that person modified the entire world in 1 day; never mind 6, with 1 to rest.
I will forever monitor contrasting 19 hours. When your face dropped, so too did my heart, and my understanding. I reverted.
The future was ours, and yet, I could see no farther than another 19 hours.
The process of planning, and now, so much more travelled down the road. Things are of clarity, and are yet perhaps still premature, or even impossible. Has the happened, happened too often already? How does one cope with such actions?
To fill a quota, to fill a weekend with work; over you? Over love? No. What was the thought process? - Absent.
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