Eat, Pray, Die

An editor commented the phrase I used in one of my article.
An acrimonious divorce is superflous.
No divorce could be described with a positive adjective.

Exactly. Just as my detachment process which has been acutely depressing.
The bolt and nuts of my brain are almost dropping off from the screws.

I enrolled into the wrong book out of the world's expectation. Could I blame on the guru whom I consulted so I don't feel entirely sorry?

I have a good affair with Love but shortly left and reluctantly return to Hate in critical moments.
Moving on with Hate, we landed on new soil but Hate had transformed into a Sore and I hated it deeply than before but surprisingly, I still cling unto it.
Why do we often have what we refuse?
Why there is no better refuge?

Sore then mellowed and I found Genial in Sore.
Slowly, Sore is changing into a small Hate.
Smaller and smaller.

Still, I want to bid farewell to Hate.
I want to close Hate's door. I want to open Love's door.
Could I?

Love has grown over the years in the march of time.
But, Love may not open its door now.
A bit too late. The carriage has a timer.
I have to line up in the queue with an uncertain 'Yes'.

I lose Love because of Hate over the years.
Why didn't I boldly pursue Love in the first instance?

Could I reclaim Love and dwell happily in an English Castle?
Armed with knights and weapons to block Hate at the entry gate?

I sincerely don't know.
I eat without Love.
I pray without Love but I still pray.
I pray to die if I could not open Love's door.