Time changes. People change. Things change. Some slowly, some quickly.
Nothing ever stays the same.
Is the impermanence of our time and life a blessing?
I think I need to let go more and hold on to less. Accept more of the changes that I have no control over.
If our life is a bus ride and all the people you came to know are only passing commuters, then we know that perhaps farewells must be made in advance.
People tell me that there is something beautiful about melancholy, but I think it is merely wistful. It vacillates between shadows of grief and vague notions of acceptance, an eulogy of a period passed where all that was once in present continuous tense became past perfect tense.
I think there will always be regret. In everything and every case. Some bigger and some smaller; some realized and some overlooked; some accepted and some denied.
I wonder for the umpteenth time what went wrong. Nothing. It is precisely because nothing went wrong that nothing could ever be set right, maybe all the little friction had eventually worn out the last iota of patience for each other.
It doesn't matter. After all, life is made up of so many partings wielded together.