Monday, December 15
qwertyuiop
The last thing that I would like to run up against is history, repeating itself. With another hand that I'm holding as the only difference, I feel the exact anxiety attack returning.
It's like a surge of dysphoria forcing itself through the narrowest of veins. Just like blood flowing through a smoker's plaque-clogged artery. I'm concerned that at any moment, this internal pressure would rupture my vessels. In consequence, every single thing that I had from the beginning would breathe their last. No matter how sturdy the foundation is, little by little, cracks will form.
Over a period of time, those primary pieces of support would start crumbling down. You try holding the rest in position, attempting to save what is left. Be that as it may, you would find out that more and more fragments would plummet to the ground. Gripping harder would shatter everything. Letting go would disintegrate the entire structure.
Thereupon, whatever you do would prove to be in vain. No matter what happens, relationships always come with a cost. What we think is eternal love brings upon an expensive price that comes with a tremendous loss, no?
Yes. And the picture has no relation to this post. Goodbye.