It’s almost two weeks after the great revelation and I’m hardly over it. I’m however, very exhausted. I haven’t been able to find all the missing pieces to this puzzle, but things are getting clearer by the days, nonetheless. I tried talking about it, to several different people, but the release from each session lasted temporarily. I need a proper closure, not a consolation prize.

I have friends who cannot fathom the agony that I put myself through. To them, the agony is self-induced and I appear to be drawing pleasure from it. To them, it is an outlet that I consciously conjure, to ease the disgrace and defeat. And to them, the feelings that I have is merely a storm in a teacup. To them, I am both a lesser mortal and a juvenile.

But this is what I actually feel: I feel that I am given an opportunity to ride in the world-largest hot air balloon, but only to be refused entry when I was at its gates. The opportunity felt surreal because I was handed genuine tickets with valid registration numbers. And it was nothing, but false hope. I started off slow, but definitely hopeful.

I couldn’t understand what you meant by “wishing it could have lasted”. To me, it was a potential journey ahead of us, but to my friends, they interpreted it as a sidewalk. I couldn’t understand what you meant by “obvious differences that could become obstacles,” to me, you left an impression that you didn’t care, because you had another choice to consider. And because of your unwillingness, I felt like a 14-day trial software that was deleted prematurely. Friends who were at your side tried explaining things to me, attempting to bring me to various vantage points to understand your decision. I didn’t resist. I tried walking a mile in your shoes.

Your friends felt you were unsure. And because of your doubts, I was fed with a daily dose of unintended happiness and hope. It wasn’t for me to complain, because the taste was absolutely blissful and gratifying.

So two weeks ago, you were finally sure of what you really wanted. You didn’t want to make the wrong move and your meticulous plans were flawless. You want to be sure, absolutely sure. It was all about you.

It wasn’t about me, let alone about us. There were neither discussions about how we could have made it last, nor talks about how we could have sort our differences out. There were no instances of signs refusing my slow advancements. Perhaps, you were drawn more by his aggressive moves. Perhaps, I left a bitter aftertaste that you couldn’t wait to get rid of. Perhaps, I couldn’t meet your benchmarks of a higher stature.

Since the beginning, I knew the decision lies in you. And I thought it would suffice. It didn’t matter to you what I care though, because you didn’t ask. You prioritized making a choice over further understanding, and that’s possibly the greatest variance we have had. I thought you will understand, but reality proves it otherwise.

There wasn’t a perfect exit strategy, the one you labeled wishing “you can still be part of my life” just has greed, selfish and patronizing written all over. It didn’t dawn on you that you can’t have everything in your life. It is only right that I give you all my blessings, but I cannot live my life pretending this eventful saga never did exist.

I’m now still at a loss for decisions.