Pretty marble stepping stones may let you slip.


I must confess.

When I lift my head, and look forth into the future, of us, there is fear. Fear's a common thing when you're a worrywart like me, hoping for the best and things like that. The way there isn't room for error, and a second go is as a defeatist. Sometimes my naivety shines extraordinarily, I cannot feign oblivion.

They say love is never forever, because forever is impossible. We could make it a close shave, at a lifetime, but that in itself sounds almost rare; not without factoring right choices and right persons, commitment compatibility and compromise, and whatnot. It makes love sound so tedious, like calmly waiting for the dust to settle, constantly wondering if it's the right thing to wait for in the first place.

I detest this, but I cannot help but fear, if one day we'd lose our charm. The way we'd lose importance. And if we'd fade away like rainbows fading, blending in with the bright blue sky, outshone by the everyday blinding sunlight. Hearsay and experience rules out impossibility, and possibility ignites fear.

Maybe this is one post too personal. But I'll tell it as a truth. You could never really erase the IFs, now can you?