that sticky thing called love

love is very sticky. That's all i can describe it as. no matter how hard you try to deny it, no matter how hard you try to get rid of it, there'll always be a remnant of it left. like when you accidentally step onto a piece of bubblegum, or when you step onto a patch of melted track. no matter how frantically you scrub at it, or pick at it with your fingers, it refuses to budge.
i'm beginning to realise that love isn't something you snap your fingers and get out of. it's a long long process of facing the truth and meticulously trying, really trying to move on. But sometimes, even then, traces are left behind. and i've found that the only way to deal with those little pieces is to treat them as souveniers and look over them from time to time and laugh. maybe one day, when the time is right, something will happen.