In the end, what we regret most are the chances we never took.
There are things that should not be spoken about.
There are things that cannot be spoken about.
There are things that fall under both those categories.
In order to get something, you have to give something back.
People will guess. People will whisper.
But nobody will ever know.
Because nobody, nobody cares.
One who loves others will be loved in return.
Nobility is nothing. Return is nothing. Nothing more than just specks of dust flying in the wind.
Everything would get in the way. People. Society. Views. Arguments. Insults. Comforts. Enemies.
What good is it to live a life that brings pains?
What was there left? Love? Hate? Desire? Revenge? Nothing. Empty words hanging in the air. Ideas formed by incompetent minds.
But no. There still was one last thing to hang onto. Hope.
Out of the depths of misfortune comes bliss.
It was hard to wait anymore. The only light remaining was flickering away, a desperate sign of hope and sanity. But the dreams would never happen. They never would be.
The songs of the dead are the lamentations of the living.
One lamentation would explain everything. One lamentation that would put an entire person to peace. But it would never happen.
It would be asking a person to say everything and sustaining the impact when the words were already known.
The first thing that was actually worth wishing for. The only thing that was actually worth wishing for.
Sometimes you just need to summon up the courage to let go.
That’s what I think about you.
Written by Adrian Dakota on 19 May, 2011.
For someone who was just there, but never realised how special they were.
There’s still time to change that.
But there’s no more reason to any more.