Soltar cuesta un montón.
Despedirse, aceptar la pérdida, reconocer que las cosas no volverán a ser como antes.
Por supuesto que duele, entristece, incluso a veces molesta, ya no perder lo material sino los ideales, las expectativas, la ilusión que se tenía sobre algo.
Y sin embargo, es tan natural como tener, soñar, luchar, desear...
¿Y por eso dejamos de intentarlo? No.
De Noches Blancas, de Dostoievski:
Dios mío, Dios mío. ¿Un instante de felicidad no es suficiente para toda una vida?
Letting go is incredibly hard.
Saying goodbye, accepting the loss, acknowledging that things will never be the same again.
Of course it hurts, it makes you sad, and sometimes it even upsets you—not because you’ve lost something material, but because you’ve lost your ideals, your expectations, the hope you once had for something.
And yet, it’s as natural as having, dreaming, fighting, desiring...
And is that why we stop trying? No.
From White Nights, by Dostoevsky:
My God, my God. Isn’t a single moment of happiness enough for a whole lifetime?
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