Ignorance is bliss, or so they told me. I made the obvious, oblivious choice of not believing their – at the time – ignorant councils, for I was blinded by emotions.
All until the night of the accursed when I came to realization. I saw and I threw silent sighs and curses at the sight of the regretful eyes before me on her face. It was the only time I felt the agony of seeing, of observing and of watching, Seeing the hurt in her eyes when she was trying to conceal it, observing a language her body spoke and watching my world of dreams I used to dream burn to ashes as they were born from ashes.
The words escape my pen, or try to anyway; I chase them with the utmost of whatever might I have left in me. My pen is losing its self proclaimed dignity as the words are currently slowing and moving recklessly on the pale paper like the raging sea of emotions that form the failing excuse of a man, or the shadow of the man I claim to be.
How I longed, how I wanted and how I’m falling beyond the depth of what I defined as rock bottom. Now in my mask I trust, vulnerable no more, now awake more than ever. Thank you for the lesson unwanted.