Que sera, sera.

I need to run away for a while because, while I struggled to remain impenetrable, you effortlessly crumbled the walls I built around me, making me weaker than ever. I needed a break from all the hustle because I have been permeated by you so severely, and it's driving me crazy. There is somewhere I must be, and I choose to go there freely; while I will, for sure, ache missing you so badly, I hope against hope that it will be for the best.

Seeped deeply in my attachment to you, I have lost myself, and in my absence from the world I hope to find myself again. There is a part of me that longed for this attachment, but in my efforts to keep it, it began to be so exhausting. A bigger part of me always knew how futile this is from the very beginning, but my other half so stubbornly denies it. What's the solution to this chaos? To walk away and think, and rethink, and rethink... and hopefully to set things straight.

Distancing myself for a while is a big risk to take -- I might lose you altogether in the process. But there's nothing else I can do but to leave everything in fate's hands. Que sera sera. Whatever will be, will be. Goodbye, my dear. Whatever will be, will be.