alfred tennyson, you know me so well.
but why is it still so difficult to get over?

i have been reflecting on this situation for the past few months. and i figure it is time i agree to tennyson. it is time i relent to the merciless hands of Inevitability. isn't this the perfect example of oscar wilde's saying; art imitating life? and a century after tennyson wrote this famous line, this very art is still a haunting mimicry to our lives.

my lament is not a case of lost love, it is a lament on a love lost. lost to perhaps Inevitability. we may wax lyrical about the paradox of it all but paradoxically, beneath the beauty lies pain so seering it is beyond words.

can i blame myself for all the drama? i guess. i haven't been the perfect friend in this situation. i tried too hard to feel normal that it backfired on me. i wouldn't say i am entirely at fault, but i think i am a guilty party. perhaps only God, not time, can heal. i wouldn't want to hurtle forward in such phenomenal leaps, but i ask only that God slowly heal and recover what we have lost.

until then,
alfred tennyson, you are so right.