And now I’ve done it. Torn myself up and apart.
It felt like only yesterday the fading embers within were relit into the raging blaze that got me into this mess. And it literally was only yesterday when the raging blaze decided to suddenly up and vanish, leaving the dying embers which place the burning flames took.
It was this very blaze that allowed me to write five of the seven best works of my life. And yet, the very same blaze has consumed me, leaving me dead on the inside now. Perhaps even the hottest of flames die when there is nothing left to burn.
The void has returned sooner than I had expected it to. The seeping despair has dampened the flames faster than I thought it would. And now, I sit here wondering, why did my heart light up in the first place if it wasn’t going to stay lit until the very bitter end? And the end isn’t even that much further away. How different would my life had been if the dying embers were not relit by that one dazzling, beguiling smile?
A smile that proclaims to mask a succubus. Yet, I couldn’t care less if there was any truth behind those words. If I could die in a way of my choice, then being sucked lifeless by a succubus would be a dream come true. A dream that remains a dream, as sweet as it was, and as long as it has lasted, for in the end, the painful reality wakes me from the deepest sleep. After all, if a Devil such as I deserved a companion, a succubus would be the perfect fit. But, again, perfection is the stuff of dreams. No such greatness belongs in the realm of reality.
As I was enthralled, everything seemed hopeful… happy, even. and now that I am disenthralled by reasons still unknown, reality reminds me to stop dreaming for as long as I’m awake and alive. Something I've always endeavoured to do, but as this entire scenario has shown, something I cannot maintain. The heart is a fickle thing, one that, sadly, I cannot live without.
It is also in this moment of clarity that I have realized how much of a woman I’ve become in my pursuit of one. I’ve inadvertently begun to rely on others, to speak my mind more often to those who couldn’t care less, to be nosy and noisy, to be weak and reliant. My old stoic, solitary and strong self has been completely destroyed by my desire of her company. My 24 years of solitude turned into loneliness in a mere three months, and for the 6 months since, I’ve caused trouble to my surrogate brothers and sisters. I, the strongest of the lot, reduced to the weakest of them all, by a force I do not comprehend, yet desire so dearly. But perhaps my softer self has been a blessing, as it cushioned the fall somewhat; despite this being my most emotionally invested attempt, it also ended up being the least hurtful, even if it was the most disappointing one. Also arguable is that my soft self has been my best self after all. I would think so, for I've been willing to do things I'd have never would have done otherwise. My surrogate family would agree, albeit for different reasons.
It was long ago that I have accepted that, no effort nor labour is a match for fate. And yet, this single encounter made me take leave of all reason, to believe that my purest sheer will and effort is enough to change my fate. I knew I was delusional, I knew I will be disappointed, and yet I went for it anyway. It was more than a lapse of judgement; it was totally taking leave of my senses.
I started this journey, with the expectation of failure. I was not disappointed, and yet I feel immense disappointment. Partly because my preparedness had not saved me from my expected despair, but perhaps partly also because I was silly enough to believe in my nonexistent ability to change the flow of my destiny.
Perhaps this is me biting of more than I could chew. Perhaps this is me not knowing my place. But all that’s fine. Now, I seek the next best thing: closure. I can only suspect that the dampening of the raging blaze within was due to the obvious reluctance at reciprocation, again something I foresaw yet could not handle.
Also aware I am of the hypocrisy of it all. From my own defending of high moral standards and my own breaking of the very same standards, to the simultaneous support and disdain shown towards my endeavours; people who both encourage and discourage me at the same time. It is true then: time is the answer to everything; from the destiny the future holds to the honesty of mortals.
At the end of it all, I regret only the fact that I'm not in control of my own emotions. All that I have done beyond, I regret none. I'd rather regret making a mistake than regret inaction; a lesson I've learned since a previous debacle.
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