Monday, July 16, 2012

Futile Hope

 

Being near you once a week is already a luxury for me. You don’t know how I look forward to being one feet away from you. This is where the torture starts. You are a tequila for a recovering alcoholic.

I swore that I would stop feeling the way that I do even if it was futile. I said that I am through with all the insecurities you’ve caused unknowingly. I know I should not pursue you but there is this one thing that keeps my heart fighting, gasping for air…

Hope.

Nauseating and sickening hope for the hopeless.

I have been wondering why do I keep hoping when I know it will not ever come true. I am bent on not believing but there is always a flicker of hope, barely holding but still existing. I am really sick of all these matters with the heart. Why can’t I be calculative or scientific? Why can’t I be devoid of emotional stress?