I am back, and that only means one thing - I have no one to talk to, nothing to occupy my time.

In retrospect, self-reflection is a terribly useless hobby. Yixun has introduced an economic theory to me, one that states that the all personal growth is measured in attractiveness. In this light, self-reflection is terribly useless, not only does it do nothing to enhance one's growth, but it makes one look mopey and depressed, which is really a step backward in the whole social capital race.

But this is what we do, when we are tired of pursuing, when there is nothing, or no one, worthy enough to pursue.

One tries to believe in the inevitability of it all, of course. I say that this is the natural course of all things beautiful, and so let it end, let it end, in gray twilight before the night comes, so that a new dawn may colour your life again. You say you wish me well, and hope the best for me, and that you are sorry it has ended this way. We romanticize, we fantasize, we tell sincere lies - the breakup needs to be lovely, and we will not accept an ugly end.

But sometimes an ugly end is all you can hope for. The brutality shocks one out of the illusion, and one needs that to fall into despair. Because only despair can let us let go - not hate, not anger, not bitterness nor scorn. Only despair. The opposite of love is not hate, it is indifference.

Hope is such a difficult thing to quash. Pair it with this thing they call 'love', and you're in for a hard time. How do I cut this bond when neither of us wish to? Let it fade, you say?

I am but a weak little star, blotted out by the light of your life. But at night the stars come out to play, twinkling merrily, shining cheekily. Every night they come to play.