Facing and allowing himself to feel pain, and not to mask it was easy, living with it was not, not at all. On the contrary it was one of the most difficult things he had done yet. Friends eased the pain, as well did some distractions, hobbies, movies and things of such kind. But in the end of the day, laying in that huge bed alone, the pain acted up again, all the felling forgotten throughout the day came back rushing. And it seemed that little creatures prevented his eyes from shutting, projecting images and memories, dragging a razor blade in his mind. Fuck no….these dreams, this memories, so sharp, they hurt so much, couple of months ago they would bring joy, but now, nothing but pain. And each day the razor would cross the same path, on and on, cutting deeper. And each day he struggled to fell asleep making the wounds deeper and deeper.
Some days seemed better, and the wounds would healed, bit by bit, but only one thought would make the wounds open again. But before he knew joy came back, in small amounts but came back. And the small pleasures of life were important once again. Writing, spending time with friends and family, seeing a single flower in a path of dirt. Little steps were being take…small yet firm.
It was now time to act, to fight once again. He was far from being finished and the clock still ticked, gosh that thing never seems to slow down. It was time!
To heal, to change, to renew his love…not for her, no! she was history, not for for others, he was still not ready, but for himself, time to renew his self love. Life is a journey after all, and the next stop was now at sight.
Strangely enough, as strangely as the world works, this journey was not only a emotional one but a real one, he was invited to an overseas, in a city far away, not unknown but still far away.
And so following the ways of the phoenix he had life, he burned, and it was time to let the ashed recreate him. Time to be born again. Time to face his next chapter. Not looking back he spread his wing and roamed.