Febraury 2nd

This is a personal journal entry that will stay on this place until the day on the title.

I was doing so well.

Well not so well so well but well enough.

After falling into hole due to my inability to control my feelings I found a bit of peace and finally a bit of acceptance.

But I have a tremendous flaw. Hope.

I say a flaw because as much as it is a moral value it is also what brings me much pain.

After almost two weeks of being able to control intrusive thoughts on my mind I finally yielded and am agonising with the idea of going back with the woman who pushed me away.

I meditated, I found knowledge and studied and learned and was moving on. My mind was rushing and able to find peace as well as getting to outline and plot and think. I had moments of enlightment both for life and for my story which was stuck as my mind was stuck in feelings that no longer have a recipient. I got over it for two weeks.  I sang, I wrote, I was whole.

I was ready to move on. And I fell on the trap again. I felt sucked into a hole of melancholy and memories that have no place in her heart.

A date aproaches, that date is the date I set to move on. It has been months since we talked, its been months since she said she found it difficult to talk to me. If by this date, February the second, she still does not talk to me, I will leave her alone. I will move on and wish her the best, letting the road clear for her to have a happy valentines day with her boytoy. I will close ties with her and try to live as the song goes

"Por que yo a donde voy hablare de tu amor 
como un sueño dorado y olvidando el rencor 
no diré que tu adiós me volvió desgraciado 

Y si quieren saber de mi pasado 
es preciso decir otra mentira 
les diré que llegue de un mundo raro 
que no se del dolor que triunfe en el amor 
y que nunca he llorado"

I am tired of being blocked by the sight of her eyes in my dreams, by the pain of her and her lover in my nightmares, and worst of all the hope brought by the memory of a promise in a park in Brussels, of a church in France, of being her lover. Of being the one.

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Found this from a year ago.

We got back. We departed.

It's over and little care is left. Even if stupid thoughts plague my mind from time to time.
She made a choice. I made mine, still working towards what I want. Slowly. My Pace. My time.