Going Rogue

Going rogue? Don’t mistake it as a memoir of Sarah Palin. I sometimes feel such as if I’m going rogue to a great extreme.

When you let someone come closer and they leave, you feel lost, deserted. You get hurt, it’s obvious. But, you don’t believe and you keep insisting on yourself, your own hunch. Hunch bears no proof and when one strives to explain, they only ridicule themselves. I know, this applies to me too.

It’s true, you can’t always be too available. For someone, especially after they depart. Your own conscience, pride and self-esteem don’t let you be so. You miss them; you cry for days, weeks, years; you devote all your (to them) but still they don’t come back. You need to move on hobbling if not striding (cos you can’t). This is a tragic but long-practiced aspect of human life. May be, I’m refusing to get along with this.

Yes, I’m refusing. I’m still not ready to accept whatever had happened is true. May be, I want to get the things the way they were or in the least, I want to get them them right even if they have gone wrong and annihilated. I don’t think I’m being irrational.

I can’t stand losing her to another man. But, she will get hitched someday with someone. She will have to, as every others. I MUST die to rid myself of all these pains. The only concern is, though I always want her good, I don’t want her marry any other guy even if she stays happy with them. I know, I won’t be able to prevent her from going with someone else even if I die. And, even if I live, I was told I could never get her back.

Should I kill her then? NOOOO. It’s demonic. It’s hellish thought. What else to to?! I have seemingly no other options but to go extreme. But…She’s so precious to me that I can’t give her even a slightest trouble. She’s my love. I want her good only. Only good and happiness. Lots of them. Want her smile always. Want her enjoy even the smallest things. She’s my love. She’s. She’s there, that’s why I’ve been living here.

*Gasps* Sometimes I collapse into deep despair thinking about my odiousness and hideousness. I really think there’s no use of me anymore and I’m only being a burden to myself, my family. I got my study halted. I somehow presented my dissertation, but got stuck on some subjects…I go so melancholic. A great disappointment and frustration engulfs me. I think about dying. Her remembrances always drive me distraught. May be I’m reeling under the death throes.

I know, she has been an inspiration too. At times, I try–though I oftentimes fail– enjoying things remembering (not ‘missing’, when I ‘miss’ her- as others, it’s a human nature – I always go worse) her. When being with her (though rarely), I all but forget pains to a great extent.

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