No one ever said love was easy, and given in the wrong hands it can be a nightmare slowly chipping away at you until you loose complete control of your senses, and a dull feeling steals through your body and eats away at you until you wanna scream and hate ... because even after everything, you can't help yourself.
Ahahahaha, emo isn't it?! heart What a lovely little quibble. ( what's a quibble you ask? why I don't know )
But whatcha gonna do when the final curtain sets on a used stage? Sometimes one can dance as well as they can, but it's not enough for the real world, and the audience isn't pleased -- the ones you're preforming for.
What can you do then? Linger on your mistakes? Or get right back in the game, practicing your steps until your new opportunity, a time to shine? I believe the answer is obvious. There will always be some trace of regret, but given time happiness will come again, and someday you'll really show the world what you're made of.
Such is the key of life. The past is the past, although the past can't be forgotten or even forgiven so easily, because memories aren't just erased like that, and once you've gone past a certain point there's never no turning back to a simpler time. There's nothing you can do but shed your momentary tears, then step forwards into a brighter light, and letting no chains hold you back.
The chains of love, friendship, promise, trust, and forgiving. But every chain without care and with the aid of time will rust and turn to brittle dust, and a chain cannot polish itself, even if it's linked with the strength to pull things together. Supposedly one snaps those chains, but then what? With the lack of a chain, what is the point? Is one less chain in life truly a difference then if it had stayed whole? Loss only equals to loss, unless you gain something else in it's place, but that would mean substituting the loss, and not always is there such a substitution worth such pain.
Would one have any remorse towards that lonely chain? Faithful in it's service, but suddenly obsolete. A sad turn of events, but again just an occurance in the churning of life, because as time goes on every substance will fade away in the end...
The dancer and the chain are alike, or rather the dancer is bound by chains. Not only the dancer, but every being with those capabilities. However, whether or not one is bound by those chains forever, or is choked to death within the cold linked grasp, is entirely up to the puppeteer.
But every soul has the option of rebelling, and escape is possible with a correct mindset, or a pair of wings. Or maybe even a new puppeteer, a trade.
Lies are disappointing, especially after one has given everything they ever had, but the choice to smile upon a better conclusion, or the choice to turn away unmercilessly, are both options that are automatically doled out. No matter what side is pick however, there will still be a hint of mistrust behind one's eyes forever afterwards.
Deserving or no? The opinions are varying.
A promise, of one's self or to another, should the one whom vowed be respectful, may keep their faithful habits, but to observe from a reach farther then before, away from the aura of malice that ensnares the unwary kind-hearted. A path more light-footed wouldn't be blamed should it be chosen, a cheerful stroll through the woods of former but on a different plane, for the wolf whom doesn't desire company may then walk alone, but not without watchful eyes and the existance of friendship.
Slink away, tiny squirrel, whom is but a presence unwanted. There will be other days where the sun will be shining brightly through the trees of your home, and the foods of your favour bountiful. Keeping that realization in mind, she may bound through another day without regret and the gift of happiness in her heart, even if the images of the wolf run through the moonlight in her mind.
Time brings fresh healing, even if the wounds of a memory still remain.
And life ain't smooth cruising, but for every tear there's a smile, so it goes on in balance.
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These are the records of certain occurrences and musings in my life. It is probably not of much importance to you, unless you enjoy being a sleuth or have some vague interest in listening to me prattle about my flavour-of-the-month.
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