Saturday, June 28, 2008
ACOMODADOR: The point of giving upHOW FAR WOULD I GO FOR MY OBSESSION?
My Zahir is always the subject of my "impossible dreams"; those precocious dreams that made me went to places I'd never imagine I can reach....
That pilgrimage towards my Zahir went far beyond my limitation, it imbued me with my own detriment.
I felt a lump in my throat, occluding the air passage which lead to lack of oxygen on my lungs and heart. I struggled not to cry but I did, and as the pain and bitterness gets the best of me, I realized that our time-bounded relationship was full of empty spaces, nonsensical rhetoric, evasive reparation, false pretenses, ineluctable jokes, resounding excuses, reprehensible acts and conditional affinity.
Despite being wretched by my very own Zahir, there was no change in whatever in My Zahir. Exactly what he had been in my eyes then, he was in my eyes still...
In the words of a Persian sage: "Love is a disease no one wants to get rid of. Those who catch it never try to get better, and those who suffer do not wish to be cured."
From then, now and tomorrow, I am gratly and profoundly in love with the Zahir. He will always be the BEST I EVER HAD.
This is the last self-wretching effort of my fretfulness.
THE STORY NEEDS TO REACH ITS END.
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