Maybe the words we find will always be less than the feelings we hold.
Will we ever learn?
Find the path between the obstacles of ourselves?
I am exhausted and this is for me. For me and from me.
Maybe we hold onto ideas more so than the actual grip of what reality holds for us.
Comparing back not to what was but to what we thought it might be. What we thought it could become.
Letting go will always be my greatest accomplishment.
To let go.
Of love. Of memories. Of thoughts and desires. Anger, most of all.
Will I ever learn?
I think these words have been written before. Spoken before. Typed before.
These are not revelations, no new sights.
These are diaries. Further explorations of what lingers for what lingers is not what has been accomplished. Not what has been fought.