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Letting go

It's night again. The hardest part is about to begin.

Pain is a part of life. So is letting go. Of places, of people, of memories. Well, perhaps not memories. Maybe those I can keep. To remind me of how it felt, how I felt, so alive, so consumed, so addicted, and so dead to the world outside.

Goodbyes are a part of life too. Everything that begins must end, even life itself. To be fair, it's not like I didn't know this was coming. I knew the minute it started that it could last for only so long. But I can't help but feel as though it took a part of me with itself. Maybe it gave me something in return, too. Time will tell. Of course, I'll move on. I've never doubted that either. And I'm sure I'll find it again, that feeling of being alive and consumed and addicted. Or maybe a similar one, at least.

I'm not quite sure why I'm making such a big deal out of this. I mean, it was only a book.

I think it's time for another visit to the bookstore.