the lost man chronicles
the daily chronicle
We’ve all got to make choices; and sometimes we end up not being the chosen ones.
We passed the sign that read:
Choices resounded like never before and triggered pangs of being let go.
And so, for a moment, I pondered the necessary evil—when one must decide to move on despite the preponderance of evidence that argues in favor of the status quo.
That’s just the way love is, that’s the way life is. Some of us are simply programmed to leave, we can’t stay, stick around, suffer and be deceived by compromise; taking token solace with a reprieving sigh and resignation.
For a voice inside tells us there’s a free sundae out there, should we dare choose otherwise—to wander interminably, to always wonder why that elusive other, that avatar, that star of stars and paragon of paramours, that significant lover we’ve long been waiting for, just doesn’t step up and ask, “Excuse me, would you like a cherry on top of that?”
And so, I chuckle, knowing rejection or having to choose are not the worst things to suffer. If anything, dejection is far worse to bear—losing hope because we hold out for the unknown out there, all the time unwilling to bend like the reed, all because we rather bleed in the name of some sick and sordid ideal of love.
Life is amicable when you embrace its opportunities; it’s a cross to bear and gets awfully lonely otherwise.
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