Many have walked out of my life; closing the door when departing. I never locked the door and cut them out of my life either. I gave them chances. They filled me with a false sense of hope, leaving me sitting by the door eager for their return. And when they do, I deteriorated into a state uselessness and dependency, and crawl to their feet whenever they came back. The damage they inflicted onto me disintegrates and forgiveness is granted—until I’m left at the door again. A sad and pathetic vicious cycle, isn’t it?

…like pouring salt on an open wound in hopes that it’ll heal faster.

Stupid.
Silly.
Inconceivable incoherence.

Presently, the pain associated with one’s departure ceases to exist. It is greeted with indifference. Their return is ignored, their significance is gone. Faces are blurred and voices are muffled. They become a ghostly entity that hovers in and out of my life, but is never truly acknowledged. Not anymore.