I refuse to

Dear Diary,

They keep giving me the encouragement. Saying if it is, it is. Flashing the cheeky secret grins. Turning down my every offer of pessimism (or logic, I'd rather it be).

Such is the sweet optimism. From them. I love them for it but...

I've made up my mind. Or so I loudly declare...with a tinge of rejected hope beneath.

It cannot be possible. My mind finds it ultimately boggling, unacceptable that I should be encountering with that that I coveted in the yesteryears.

It may have been a yesteryear story but who can actually so blindly let go of something that has been one of the biggest influence to them? I meant to be able to but I guess deep down, I didn't want to. I loved chasing Cloud 9. I loved the contradictory feeling of wanting while acknowledging the Mission: Impossible. And bluffing to myself and the world that fantasy is sufficiently beautiful.

However, I think my heart is mended by itself. Life can be cruel in terms of lying to us using scenes of a fantasy. (Ok, maybe the blame should be on myself, not life.) I no longer get the melancholic feeling. And no more wishful thinking.

Maybe I am over it.

Maybe.

Maybe it's better this way.