I remember writing a short prose with the same title a year ago. And a year later, I am writing it again. In a way, things happened. In the short time of a year, of the ups and downs, of the many wonderful things that happened and did not happen, I think I sort of find myself to be in a position of being wholesome – and paired.
I figured this was be fate, this was something that I desired. But reality has a way of slapping me in the face. And I needed to part (for the better). The guilt that follows is immense and more than ever, in the months of peaceful slumber, I find myself sleepless and unable to breathe.
There is something beyond looks, beyond wealth, beyond charisma, beyond intelligence,that I think I failed to notice. And I am tired of trying for love, for a baby, for anything for that matter.
You are you. I am I. We just were.
So in memory of the tears that were shed last night, I remind of myself that words do not wipe away tears, fingers do.
Writing prompt: Vanish