It is true that excessivism leads to wisdom. I have failed too many times to fail again. Frankly, I've outdone myself this time. Love, as you know, is my sacred department of failure. When a relationship is 'called off', 'broken' or 'dies its own death'; it is a failure - of the time, emotion and energy spent on the relationship.
I have been assuaged by many, 'it was the correct decision to make'. Nonetheless, I feel a lack, a lack that comes from being a woman. For a long time, approximately 600 days, the woman in my head provided excuses for the loop-holes in my man. However, it is common knowledge that my sex is cursed with a mind that would make most people laugh. With a hope that would make most people cry. And with a need that would make most people call us pathetic. They do call us pathetic.
Now, this is no weep-wagon. The effect, of the death of my seriously flawed relationship on me, has amazed me. (I like discovering this new me.) It is painless and turmoil free. The moving-over is smooth, and laden with content knowledge. There are many pointers that I've learnt from the Oyster Seeker. He never let the mask fall. His words were pure honey. His silence, an absolute treat. The illusion, a beauty!
A woman once told me, 'the only way to be happy in this world is to observe men.' This time, I took time out and observed them, in retrospect. I wanted to slap myself crimson, and kiss myself purple.
Guess, it is indeed never too late to stab that woman in my head.
