"Those good days were long gone."

6.17pm | September 5, 2015 |Saturday

I went home after the morning meeting and a brief lunch afterwards. I de-hibernated my laptop, and it said ‘software update’. I finally decided not to click on ‘Not now’. After nights of sleep deprivation, I turned towards the bed and dived into a hopeful refuge.

                Three and a half hours later, I woke up with slivers of dried tears mounted by the edges of my eyes. Semiconscious, I started recalling through the present-minded bay of memories.

                I succeeded. And so it began.

                                                                                                                                                              

                “Those good days were long gone,” the stone echo was a tuning fork afloat in the deepest ocean trench. Then the question stampeded from the rear, “How long?”

                The picture was vague and out of focus. The good times passed by like filmstrips. The bad times passed by like filmstrips, only slower – much slower, and more focused. The weight of revelation could not have been more, and the revelation was simple but the possibility was hurting.

                “Hey, nice to meet you.”

                “I think I’m starting to have a feeling for you.”

                “We’ll have a good time ahead.”

                “Hey, thanks for everything.”

                “You’re important to me.”

                “We are different in so many ways.”

                “You win.”

                “I’m not able to give you what you need.”

                “Those good days were long gone.”

                “Give us one more chance.”

                “Why won’t you?”

                “We’re done.”

                They were a mix of uttered words firing from both, and thoughts from the mind when it was most solitary and fragile.

                The pain is real. The hope is fading. Dreams like this contribute to the gradual loss of faith towards the stones and bricks of this foundation. Dreams like this have made me give up.

                But not yet – the realization after these dreams always managed to stick the broken faith together, almost perfectly, although the fatigue was a cyclical load and nasty business.

                Each time I woke up from pain, I had good memories to drive me forward. These reminiscences give me motivation to what kind of a future that I would pave ahead of us. It is never promising, but it is an expectation worth the drive.

                You have been very important to me. You are already a part of my life – not that I cannot, but will not let go.

                These dreams taught me that the end of a string of memories, long or short, is where the action reminders are.

                The bad emotions can stop already. We shift the space for a better and more positive relocation of good deals, those you once were motivated towards, of which shall resume in time.

                You know we can. You know it is possible. It’s only the goal-driven effort.

                I love you.