Things fade. Time devours all relationships, then you bury the ashes and walk away. You visit their graves on special occasions to remember them, pay your respects to them. You remember how they have each painted a mark, which you sometimes call a scar, on your body that will remain as you grow old and wither.

The trick is when to call time, or when to charge up the pads once more, tell everyone to get their hands off your relationship and shock it. Chances are you???ll have done that a lot, for the special ones. Chances are most of the special ones are still alive and kicking. Then there are those that didn???t make it, though they were special. You shocked and shocked and begged and cried and kicked the operating table and threw down your array of surgical instruments. But you couldn???t operate alone.

You were afraid, after your first time losing one on the table. You let some choke, because you were afraid. Others, you didn???t take to the operating table. They too died of neglect and fear. Some, you left on the operating table. Got tired and walked away. You left them for someone else to bury, watched their funeral from afar. Then regretted it.

Regret is a funny thing. Funny in the distant, tragically ironic way you try to see your life in. There is irony in all tragedies though, is there not? Tragedy is all about missed chances, what-ifs and unfulfilled possibilities. And irony? You just like to think there is some, so you can laugh at it. So it isn???t a tragedy to you, but a twisted comedy that leaves you in tears of laughter.

Or at least, what seem to be tears of laughter.

~*~

Hello all. I know I’ve gone poof for a while. Explaining why would be quite tiring andrather boring, soI shall spare you all. I am back though, and planning to stay and post and comment, circumstances allowing. Henjoy! Hopefully…