I can’t keep doing this to myself, and yet, I do.
This self-infliction of pain that I keep causing myself is getting old.
It’s gotten so bad that it doesn’t even hurt anymore,
the wounds that I keep pouring salt over,
are now numb.
What is it about that one door in your life that you know you have to close, but trick yourself into keeping it open just enough, so that it is not completely shut.
Maybe it’s because I’m hoping that our story isn’t really over.
Maybe it’s because I am subconsciously hoping that the outcome will be different.
When in reality, I know that it won’t be.
Maybe it’s because I’m just a masochist who loves to suffer.
Or, maybe it’s because loving someone engulfs my entire being, and letting them go, would mean it would be over. Even though I know it’s been over for a very long time.
Or maybe, it’s just this gloomy weather.
It turns me into a big lump of sappiness and full of melancholy.