Story I - Letting Go...
Mood:  celebratory
Topic: Personal
Three weeks ago I began to feel that I was beginning to stop missing her. As usually happens, since I said that, the feeling of loneliness got stronger and stronger & the time I spent in thought of her increased until it was nearly continuous - more even than ever before.

The acuteness of my loss came to a head sometime last week. The emotion was so strong and the seepage into my thought so total that, for a moment, I thought I must be in love with her. But then I realised that what I felt wasnt love & my 'advisor' helped me realise that it was a part of my brain giving one final scream of memory - like that last flicker of a candle before it finally dies - going out in a blaze of glory. He's helped me realise that if someone can be so inconsiderate to how much they mean to a person, & how loved they are, then they do not deserve their love. Like he says not having the time is not an excuse - we have the power to create a 25th hour if we so wish it.

Though the pain & pervasion into my thoughts is real, I attribute some part of my continued suffering & reluctance to let go to the maintenance of this diary. The writing of this serves not only as an expression of my feeling but also as an easel for my preliminary work in the art of linguistic representation.


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Jon has helped me come to realise that theres no flame of passion and, as he succinctly put it, I feel 'Guilty' thinkin about her. I feel now that the time has come for me to stop dwelling on things past, however pleasant. Though the pleasure of remebrance seems to justify the torture of memory, it can never. One reason not to let go is that the pain of severance from future memories seems to exceed the present pain of heart - i.e i dont want to give up hope that things will magically turn OK tomorrow - no matter how far fetched that dream be.


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Well, its now been a long long time. I dont seem to be feeling the loss half as poignantly as I was 2 weeks ago, when I was begging my Saviour for permission to call her. Tomorrow, my birthday, will see the passing of a milestone. With the coming of the next dawn, all hopes of reconciliation will evaporate and I shall hopefully be able to pick up the pieces of my life... My just-recovered-from-extremely-close-relationships-with-a-couple-of-girls-that-ended-prematurely best friend Sriram says he is now completely cured of the disease that had that caused him to dwell on things past and for me, soon all thatll be left is a memory.

Well, its late in the night, and the relevance of all this in my life is henceforth void. Void, since I have managed to remove (filling is only if I've found a substitute) the void she left in my life. My heart I hope has healed. I wonder who will break it next. This should be the end of this diary. Im 20 now with the burden of the rest of my life on my head. I need to keep laying the road that will lead me to my destination more than another 3 score years away. Lets hope I never dally like this for a year again, wasting my time dwelling in the past (yes I quite like the word dwell I shall use it as often as I can.). The past is a great storehouse of memories a man should visit from time to time - not live there. Good night and God Bless. I promise my next prose shall be more deserving of your time.