It had transpired exactly according to plan, once initiated it could not be halted, altered, or reversed. The plethora of emotions was almost unbearable as he stared blankly into space unmoving, reliving the events over and over. Unmeasurable was the decline of spirit as he let go of what he had prized, had cherished, had loved for so long. It had finally reciprocated the revelations he had shared though he shattered the composition in which it was given. He was full of himself. So much so that he could not feel the distress, the regret of what he had done, though he felt it all to much also, crushing him, stripping him of himself. All that remained was a flimsy, brittle entity with will fleeting.
He stared blankly into space. Impotent was his justification. Impatience set on. He will not forget. He will long for the day this could happen again. The melancholy. The elated celebration. The wasted effort.
He feels the lacking. He yearns for that which will fill the void to return, for it to be his once more. Please.
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