picture postcards

I've always hated regret. REGRET. It's the ugliest word I have ever seen. It not only scars you for the rest of your life but plagues you with aches and pain just like rheumatism. REGRET. It scares the living daylights out of me.
I run, I try to hide; I combat it(or try to), I turn and cry. Regret still hangs in the air. I've gotten over most of the horrid things that happened but...something's just not right. Can you figure it out for me?

It's been a while...How're you doing? Fine I hope. Me? I'm fine as well, finding my way back. In fact, I feel good :)

All these are lies, even if they are white lies. The "what ifs" keep looking for me and bludgeoning me until...I don't even know if I'm really over it.
I thought I had forgotten everything already! I was so happy not thinking about it but the past will never erase itself and will come back to haunt you.

Like a gardener raking up a severed hand...I found our memories.

I know...I'm probably making a mountain out of a molehill but over the past week, these thoughts have been bugging me, like maggots swarming all around, inching into each and every crevice of my brain. Why is it so difficult to forget the pain and so yet so easy to forget your best friend's name in a matter of years?
I want to move on, truly I do. Why is it so hard to pick yourself up? Out with the old, in with the new.

I'm sitting on a carousel; bright lights and shiny wooden ponies; Music is wafting in the background...lingering in each and every dream for the past decade...

It's easier said than done. Anything new is difficult for the first time but what if it gets more difficult and complicated after each try. No matter how hard you try, it feels like you're pushed down to the ground. Again and again.
I'll push myself to try real hard. I must do it. I cannot fail. You've always said I can do it but...don't praise me too much ok? It hurts. I know you mean well but sometimes, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

In the wee small hours of the morning, while the whole wide world is fast asleep. You lie awake, thinking of the guy, never even think of counting sheep. While the whole wide world has learnt its lesson, he'd be yours if only he would call. In the wee small hours of the morning, is the time I miss him most of all...