Almost always, I find myself longing for what was impossible.
I regret over what never was. I ache for what could have been and I rue for what can never be.
It makes me sad to think of all the cities I’ll never be in, of all the things I’ll never get to experience and of all the people I never met or will ever meet.
It’s a nostalgia, really – remembering things from the past and wanting to experience them all over again. And an irony – knowing that you can’t.
I torment myself with wanting to meet someone again for the first time. I delude myself into imagining that I could turn back time and fix my mistakes.
I make myself dream of those days when it was love I felt and not this gaping hole inside my chest where you once were. And I’m afraid that I’ll forever be in search of yesterday. I’ll forever be in search of you.
And then there are times when I feel an inexplicable sense of loss for all the people I’ll never get the chance to meet. It’s an insanity that has haunted me ever since, an impossibility that I have always dwelled upon. It’s the sweetest form of torture – to think that the person who was supposed to be your soulmate, who was destined to be the love of your life, who was meant to be the proverbial puzzle piece, has existed in a different lifetime a hundred years ago from where you are right now or maybe has spent his entire life half a world away from you.
You’ll never meet him and you’ll forever be cursing fate that your paths never crossed, your eyes never locked, your hands never touched, your lips never met, your worlds never collided.
Isn’t it hauntingly beautiful? To find something you were never meant to find and lose something you never really had, something that was never really yours to begin with.
And I know that all of these things are absurd and yet I find that they are what hurt the most, what wound the most.
And yes, it’s nothing but an illusion – a fantasy my mind had conjured but it would always be the deepest affliction of my ever-wanting soul.