Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Dear...

Tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow will be different. Today was a tomorrow. But today is no different from yesterday...

And on and on it went.

Reading a friend's diary entails a risk: you witness how pathetic and loathsome they are and wonder, with utter seriousness, "why do I hang out with his moron?"

You want to hear more?

Spiraling into the recesses of my broken heart, I wonder if there was space for another. Now that she was gone, I shuffle aimlessly from moment to moment, each less vibrant than the last with her absence...

Alright, alright, that should suffice. Another truism becomes evident: that which has expired makes for an oppressive specter, dressed with sentiment and unfulfilled ideals.

One more before we move on.

I see this accursed stretch of ruinous luck has sown the seeds of my undoing. I'm slowly building up the courage. Soon, I will attain a final cold comfort in the reaper's embrace.

Heard it before. This is why one should never take a peek, no matter how strong the temptation. It spawns a self-righteous 'duty' to intervene. It leads to meddling and undue anxiety for the voyeur reader. It transforms the nature of a relationship, tears down comfortable habits, destabilizes routine, and, sometimes, ends up in an armed showdown at the local roller rink.