Its ok to fall out of love.
Has it ever happened that sometimes when you pursue something / someone for so long that you eventually start feeling that you don’t need it anymore?
Slowly the truth seeps in, though quite disbelievingly, that at one point of time when you thought that there was no way you could do without this one thing in your life, now does not affect you.
That sometimes a tiny gesture or even the feeling of possessing it gave you an adrenalin rush but now slowly you cease to feel it.
Not that you don’t feel any thing about it anymore, but its just that it hurts more than it feels nice. Not the thought but the retropection still brings goose pimples on your skin. You feel the slitting pain - like blood gushing out of a deep wound when your skin is pale and cold. Like its drops of blood on a satin white sheet. And you see your life dreams shatter away.
You get disillusioned – you are not sure if you would want to have the desire again, if you would feel the same child like excitement for it again, ever in your life.
But the only constant part of life is that it moves on. It goes on and on, irrespective of how wrecked you feel – how weak you think you have become.
As Robert Frost wrote in a very famous poem of his, “And I have miles to go, before I sleep”.