It’s puzzling how easily “I do” becomes past imperfect tense, and despite all the anger, regret, or whatever other feeling prevails, you have to let it go. And you do. Eventually. After all, it is not without reason that they say time heals wounds. But the itchy scar will remain for life. And like the good grammarian you are, you will continue to look for syntactic sugar to alleviate the bitterness of that new cup of tea you have managed to brew, hoping that someone will be tempted to join you at five with a platter of madeleines and one day help you scratch that itch.
Tag: bitterness
Journal (To say something profound)
As you desperately try to say something profound, with age, you discover that whatever it is you always wanted to say, someone has already said it, but without your stuttering and with a much better vocabulary. All that remains is to relish the words, pretending not to notice the hint of bitterness in the aftertaste. After all, you are not without a role; you are a diapason that resonates with their sound. Without you, they would disappear into the void.

