It has come to my attention that the moments that I needed other people to be there had been more frequent as of late. However, it also seems that the very people that I wanted to be there isn't just there. And, more alarmingly, it seems that their absence will become more or less permanent.
I have developed quite a phobia from people walking away, leaving an empty life full of half-forgotten memories. I've been through a lot of those that I think that part of the reason that I have just made up a wall of rationalization and smugness. That people come, that people may stay, that people may go. That I have been comfortable with any group of people just because I'm thankful for the warmth that dispels the coldness of solitude.
"It might be conceded to mathematicians that four is twice two, but I can say that two is not twice one. It is one thousand times one."
-The man who was Tuesday, paraphrased.
I must admit that there are few people that are very close to me, however that has been a bit on the rocks lately (read: hidden desires and barely-masked demands). I want to rekindle the circles that I left, but it is a bit awkward to make past and present collide, inasmuch as you keep friends apart: one will see another side of you that you are keen of hiding to the other person because said friends will think a lot differently (and most of the time, less) of you.
Painful, to say the least.
The yearning to start over has been there a couple of times, but I know I cannot undo bad endings, I can only use them to create better beginnings. And for that, I asked to courage to be who I am, who I need to be, without pain made inutile of the countless masks that we wear.