In a way, I think I’m trying to write my heart away because this has always been the best way I know how to heal.
And this time around, this particular wound… until now, I just don’t know where and how to begin.
I don’t know how to confide in another because even to myself, I know how trivial and embarrassing this whole situation is. Maybe I don’t want to be questioned deeper about this too, because I know what the other person will say, “But… nothing really happened between the two of you, right?” I kn0w – how does one lose something without ever owning it?
But is ‘almost‘ worth absolutely nothing?
Does a moment, an instance, of ‘almost‘ not carry any value or meaning?
— Lauren Eden
I think not.
Because I think I was – am? – half-in-love …with possibilities if not a person, that in the aftermath ergo the present, I ache. I am in pain. I’m trying to pick up pieces of myself that I’d tried handing over and entrust to another, without success. Sometimes, in silence and secret, my mind remembers random moments and snippets of our conversations. I don’t think I was imagining things? I wrote them down here too, some of our interactions; he did act and speak as how I remembered.
He’s since just… chickened out. Or never liked me in the way that I do about him
(-but what about what I remember?).
I think there’s also love in letting go.
There is, in my opinion, dignity and humility in why and how one chooses to do so.
I like to think that I tried.
Whatever he was (not) – I was, for once, hopeful and brave.
“If you are irritated by every rub,
how will your mirror be polished?”
— [Mathnawi II, 2980]