We begin thinking about the future more, incessantly, when the present becomes shaky, that not even the certainty of the past can ensure that what will be tomorrow is the same as how yesterday’s tomorrow became moments ago.

I knew it was meant to be forever because I was hoping and praying for it to last that long or at least until the time my brain is still capable of processing perceptions, the beautiful feeling of love being one of them. But, we humans are too untrustworthy when it comes to our relationships, or maybe it’s just I. We humans are fickle when it comes to intimacy, or maybe it’s just I. How funny the word fickle sounds. I love the sound of capricious or vacillating, but I ended using “fickle”. It’s a linguistic mystery how this un-serious-sounding word is able to contain meanings far bigger than it, far blacker than it, or maybe it’s just I who has problems with clarity and telling the truth.

Today I did what I usually do minus that “inner happiness” that carries me or I carry, whichever way, around when my day begins to be unforgiving. My happiness hung onto something as wobbly as somebody else’s heart (and smile) which I never regretted. Now I am holding it in my hand not knowing what to do with it.

I am forcing myself not to believe that true happiness can only reside in the “narrowly escaping”, “hanging by the thread”, but it appears to me that it does. We humans are tragic beings because we are wired to seek happiness somewhere else, or maybe it’s just I.

And for this, the happiest man in the world is somebody who knows with certainty that tomorrow, which will not truly come, will be his last. I know that my tomorrow will be followed by another tomorrow, and of course, another tomorrow. And I woe that it will certainly be just me, by myself.

I have not been alone for a long time, and it proves challenging to relearn it. I have totally believed in forever that I have completely forgotten how it is to be in solitude once again. Though I am not an old dog so I’ll definitely learn new tricks.

*My apologies for the turgidity of this prose.