thoughts in chaos

long is the way and hard that out of hell leads up to the light. [john milton] the mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death. [oscar wilde]


October 20, 2011

Long lost

I remember the last time I was there: my presence still lingered, the memories preserved by the tokens of old. Were I to return and surely I'd find everything changed as to no longer know the place. Perhaps the memories were removed from sight and locked away into a box to be forgotten in some dusty attic. It won't come to pass though; I shall never return to that forsaken place, as I shall not look for those memories any more. It's not that they still stir inside of me or hurt me in any way - they haven't for long years now. It is merely a choice, a purely rational choice. There's no need for me to return there, to remember that, to relive in a reverie a life long lost.

8:44 PM

 

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