I guess it will never be that easy.
To go back and wander around the places I loved and loathed so I can trace down the paths I used to take.
To have a glimpse of people’s portraits whose vivid visages bring nothing but almost forgotten memories I will always find hard to reminisce.
It will never be easy,
to open all the kept letters and read them as if it was not hard to walk down the memory lane over and over again for the same heartaches.
To constantly think you have never ruined yourself from trying to fix other’s damages while not minding all your unmendable wounds.
It’s cruel of you, luck.
You weren’t there to remind me everything’s short lived.
And that it was always a mistake to leave marks on my track for someone to follow to whilst going astray towards an avoided path.
I never realized I’m off the course until I reached the edge towards my pitfall.
It’s never my intention to keep everything unsaid and leave it on the corner of my head and pretend life’s only bliss.
It will never be easy,
to live inside that hope and to continuously build yourself every tumults aftermaths.
You have to live again.
Not as what you used to be; the shattered, lost one.
And I guess it will never be that easy.
