One more, then I shall stop this haunting

I really will. Over the next few days I have plans to write about music and fun things. To stop reflecting on past writings and maybe write anew. This is again from 2007

You can't miss what you never had. You don't know what you have until it's gone. Cliched I told you so's for the hopeless. Dust yourself down, don't hanker after pipe dreams. Get on with your life. Move on, move up, move through. Things I never really had, people I never really knew. I miss these things, these people more than I can explain. The face of a stranger I saw once on the bus, a look of joyous rapture on her face. Years ago, her face haunts my memory still, her rapture, my rapture. The image of her face forever imprinted in my mind. The sadness in the eyes of a man walking slowly down the street, tears silently merging with the rain on his face. The lines on the arms of a girl whilst she sang the pain of failed love affairs that mirrored my own. Old lines, and new, fresh wounds. The rawness of her pain in the rawness of her skin and the rawness of her voice. The quiver in her voice reflecting the quiver in my soul. Her raw wail giving voice to my own. Lines on the mirror reflecting lines on my skin. A brief meeting with a beautiful man whose soul shone through his eyes. Who saw right through me and smiled. One moment, a change in the wind, a tablet in a glass, fate not trusted to play her games. Fate is a tricksy foe. Fate demands control. Submission to your fate demands faith. To forget this and second guess, to expect the hurt that was to manifest once more, to refuse to submit to the potential of the future for fear of a repeat of the pain of the past... By trusting in fate the pain of the past could be rationalised, the life that was not meant to be. Things that end for a reason, directing life in new and different ways. I have no rationale. I cannot know if this was meant to be, I can only know the choice I made was made through fear of the past rather than fear of the unknown. And for this there is no lessening of the pain, of rationalising away the life that was not meant to be. This cannot be made to hurt less, and the rapture of her face cannot be my rapture, nor the pain of his tears supersede my own. Drawing lines will not make the boundaries any clearer. All I can do is submit to Fate and remember to follow fates simple mantra, if it feels right, it is. If any minute nag of doubt exists, it's not. Clear cut. Clean cut.