I’m aching. And though I have admitted this to myself a gazillion times over; I’m aching. I’m aching because I am aware, and I have not done anything to stop the ache myself.

I’m aching, ultimately because I have accepted my defeat. And as I reason myself out, I’m also limited. I can’t drag myself further knowing I have already made a stop on me, that I have given up. That I have completely surrendered my days on what has always been plotted out. My drive has turned somewhere else and like me, it has lost its direction.

So, I ache. Every day. Every passing moment.



―a.t.