When you say a word one too many times, it loses its' meaning. I'm of strong belief that life is not supposed to be that way; we simply choose the easier alternative. You wake up so many times that you forget why; you read the same lessons over and over and over that the words start swimming in front of your eyes and still feels void. I like to think that life is made up of metaphors; that we can see hope in colours of walls, the rising of dust and in the movement of leaves. We see things the way we want to and convince ourselves that any other way would lead to a disaster. Hope can find its' way into your body in the unlikeliest of places. In a cemetery surrounded by graves looking for metaphors; searching for answers that have died along with those who posed the questions. In the middle of a road; waiting at a signal, glaring at it in the hopes that it will turn the light green. In the arms of another persons' lover; wrapped up in promises and hope. Desperation, desperation,desperation and nothing. Promises, promises, promises and nothing. Hope, hope, hope and nothing.
But love finds you like weeds find graves. It shows up at the unlikeliest places and guides you. But love, like you; will disappear. It has to regenerate to stay; vanish to appear. Maybe one day, love will stay. Drawing energy and giving it back. Maybe it leaves you broken like a romance novel tattered in the hands of heartbreak and maybe it leaves you whole; like the perfect sculpture gleaming in the light of a thousand moons. But everything has an end-point. I've learnt this through thousands of novels. I've learnt this through the pages that end when I don't want it to and pages that end when I want it to.
The pages end regardless of what I want. They end the way they want to and begin the way they're supposed to. Every great story has a beginning, a middle and an end, not necessarily in that order.
