It has been six months since my world was turned upside down. Since my wishes were granted and my dreams were taken away.
How fucked up is that?
I had prayed earlier last year for my memory of you to be lost, for my pain to be wiped away. Then, what do you know? I hit my head in a car accident and lost my memory. Except I still remembered you, actually only a vague recollection of who you are, but my soul remembered the ache of the place my soulmate used to fill. Even if I couldn’t remember you.
I had this soulful awakening too, and I realized that we are only here to be happy.
So I did what I want. And I wanted kids. Then I discover that I cannot have them. I have lost who I am over these last six months. I let my pursuit of happiness get caught up on a doctor’s diagnosis. I have stopped traveling, stopped exercising, stopped eating well, stopped exploring, stopped making love, stopped wanting to make love.
You know what? I didn’t want it anymore because I have had all of that before, minus a kid and if I couldn’t have that, I have been struggling to find a reason to live.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with me. I am not depressed. I do not have any disorders. Yet, I don’t care if I live or die.
No attachment at all.
This is oddly freeing. I can do whatever I want. I do not fear anything. I also do not crave anything.
it is only the place where my love remains, a hole, aching in remembrance to be filled, that reminds me that I am alive.