There is an ache in my heart that speaks of despise and irreversible regret. Where i can forgive most things (although i dont quite forget them), i cannot forgive this ache within. The heart is often a symbol of romantic love, but what has been underemphasized is the probably the love for oneself, the respect that one gives when one reflects. I'm not hidding, neither am i announcing this ache. I do not really wana tell this out to anybody but to tell this out to everybody is like telling nobody, because then nobody cares about one that is just like everybody.And this notion of privacy is not what everybody can realise, although by instinct they live by it.

Care is not the thing that i'm looking for. In fact i'm not quite sure what i'm looking for either. Sympathy somehow drives this ache and if almost any act of concern can be interpreted as sympathy, the cure for this ache is hard to find.The paradox lies in its abosolute cure. If the cure is here, traces of memories erased, then life will have no sense of coherence, no feeling, no meaning.Faith is such a hard medicine. Sometimes i wonder if its just some sort of placebo.If the Lord is so almighty, then why isnt things going the way i wanted it to be.

Then comes the question of what is THE WAY i wanted things to be? How do i know what's the best for me? And then alot more questions that are just like answers flow along like a stream. Why the weak faith? why do you not trust God in your path? Why why why. How how how. what what what. when when when. It's almost driving me mad, because it all becomes a circular argument, a merry-go-round enquiry that makes no sense. It just feeds on itself, life of its own, on and on.Never forgiving and ever regretting.