Maybe it's time I started to grieve the end of my 6 year relationship with V. I'm trying to tell myself it's pointless to hold onto a fantasy. It's simply not something I was ever meant to have on a permanent basis, and while it lasted, I experienced feelings - good feelings I have never felt before, or perhaps did, but never for more than mere moments. And this now, must all come to an end as everything has done before.
I have to let it go. I have to return something that I had borrowed. It was never mine to begin with, and it doesn't matter how much I still want it, how desperately I want it. I want it so much I have felt that I couldn't possibly live without it. And I still don't know if I can. I don't know if I can despite knowing I have done so in the past.
I have to let it go, but I don't want to. It is such a heart wrenching process. It strips away a layer of my soul which all my tears have not eased one bit. It is an unrelenting burning agony. And all the words in the world could not truly describe this pain.
I am standing on the precipice of my life.
There are 2 stories. The one about the soldier of tragedy who goes off into battle, fighting a war he could never win. He is struck down again and again. And yet he gets up and soldiers on. But in the end, he bleeds to death from his wounds because he would be cut open and was never allowed time to heal before he was struck down again. No one dressed his wounds. No one held him in their arms, feeding him food or giving him water when he was thirsty and starving. His death was dignified, but it was a waste. It was for the glory of his country, but he was only a statistic in the end.
There is another story about the warrior who goes to battle. He too is struck down over and over again but the warrior fights through everything and he hangs onto life, though barely. There is no one there to feed him or give him water, but he eats the vegetation on the ground and drinks from the mud puddle. He survives because he is a warrior, but his body is marked with scars and parts of his flesh is simply rotting from infected wounds. He will always walk with a bad limp and pain will be his constant companion for as long as he breathes.
Who am I? Am I the soldier of tragedy or am I the warrior?