“What is plucked will grow again,
What is slain lives on,
What is stolen will remain--
What is gone is gone."

“Who has choices need not choose.
We must, who have none.
We can love but what we lose--
What is gone is gone."


Quotes again, from “The Last Unicorn”. I’m getting very fond of quoting. I wonder if I should stop that, if it’s getting annoying for people who read my blog. Still, this is my blog, this is my space, and anyone who doesn’t like it will just have to endure. ^_^

“What is gone is gone…”

I was doing some thinking last night while writing in my diary, thinking about my feelings. Wondering if I feel uneasy because all the way from suicide and back, nothing has really changed. Sure, I’ve got a self-help book, I’ve undone my negative self-image, and I’ve been trying to change things. Yet after a while none of it really pleases me, and I don’t know why.

When I write I often use the image of a glass globe. That goes all the way back to Secondary school. I bought this glass globe; you know the kind with water in it, and lots of shiny pretty glitter. Inside the globe was one of those Japanese fortune cats with a big, beaming, satisfied smile. I thought: I would sure like to be that cat.

Nothing can hurt her; the globe protects her, she will forever be untouched by the world. The world of the globe is unreal. You know that; I know that. Yet she doesn’t know that, and she’ll be perfectly contented as long as she doesn’t know. She can sit, safe and secure, in an artificial world of her own and silently bring happiness to people.

And her world is so perfect. Her world is so pretty.

All of us sit in our own glass globes, because all of us have our own versions of reality. Too many times I have felt that things, or people, come along and land a huge blow on my globe. And I have to mend the cracks, as fast as I can, because I don’t want to see the darkness howling outside.

So “What is gone is gone…” Is that true? Can I believe that? Nothing really triggered my depression. Nothing really pulled me out of it. I cannot believe that more cracks won’t come; I can’t sit safe, and secure, and think that the glitter is real.

Maybe I’m just thinking too much. Maybe I’m just plain hard to please. But you know what it is like; when you build things up with your very life, and they break… at one blow… just like that.