I love romantic movies even though I have this weird pavlovian response to tear upon them. A 6 month to a year journey condensed into a 2 hour story. A depiction of our lives in different aspects and angles framed against perfect people. Some stories reminds me of the times I had and will never have, some filled me with possibilities of another romance. And when the credits roll it filled my loveless life with some light, some hope. Like how an ending will always have a snippet of the happily ever after…
But time after time, movie after movies, this tinge of melancholy never leaves me. Like this grey line between the black and white, between your once yes and nos. As my heart and soul let you go, and as the places changed and the world moved on. I tried to detach you from the very fibre of my being… I know I could never forget you completely, but I still try.
I shouldn’t be paving the present with pain from the past as I have to let you go. Because I know you will be living happily ever after with him.
And that’s where the credits of our story roll…
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