When lost love embarks on an overhaul, it becomes the bane of existence of memories and its survival. I am not God and shouldn't have placed belief in its places of displacement that there was sufficient storage for more without physical evidence. Reasons, they become the accomplices that we all exploit to relief our impulses of rage every once in a common moon. So memories, they hold me back no further.

So hopefully, it will be a worthwhile toast amidst the curse of flu and all the mending that needs patch works, to singlehood and more meaningful functions of a break up. Bury the hatchets and bid goodbye the yesterdays.

Life resumes, the way the systems have always been running. The stupidity of it all to believe that I would stay safe in your arms forever.