Gone

"I am lost without my Boswell" ~ Sherlock Holmes

At one point, it just disappeared.

God Knows how and when. Maybe not when...because I probably would not be so wrong if I were to put the date as around 1.5 years ago, when I took that leap forward into a new stage in this arena of life. In what is progress to others, it may be almost contrary in my own case.

As to the how...maybe I lost it, or maybe it's lost on me...Or maybe it was ripped away from my possession. It's kind of a slow process, nibbling on me little by little without even a sound to call attention upon its mischievous but all too devastating criminal activities...And I only started to be cognisant of the after-effects when the damage was overwhelmingly massive, that any hope of repair and thus return to the pre-morbid state is only a dream that is too difficult even to pursue.

It is beyond my recognition, much less my acceptance.

I had not the faintest idea that it would come to this. Like a nightmare that came true, except that the nightmare was actually forgotten prior to this.

This noxious bitterness, this repulsive amorality, this suicidal pessimism.

I rarely lose things, despite my lamentable (to some) habits. Yet the very things that I yearn to leave behind refuse to let go of me, to set me free from their evil clutches.

But one thing is for sure: I need to reclaim the things that I have lost, and time has not been kind to me.

While I wander aimlessly in the pitch darkness, time flies full speed ahead.

Tempus fugit.

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