Boy, this is just not working out, is it? It has always been my fatal flaw to stay long after the party has ended, so let’s not act surprised that I’m finally speaking the truth. We were never married – can you imagine? – but it sure felt like it, and the promises I made to you have been repaid nine times over. And you’re not even real, you’ve only ever had the power I gave you.
They always say “people came between us”, and while that’ll always induce a groan, the only thing worse than a cliché is a cliché that is true.
You can never say when you stop caring. Or can you? I think of it as a maple tree that turns color – it’s gradual, but one day it’s obviously autumn. It happens slowly all at once. There is a holiday called Epiphany, which is tomorrow in the Eastern Churches, but when something can no longer be denied, you must celebrate it today.
I am not one to sit around and bemoan the things that could have been; that’s a habit I lost in my twenties. But I can reserve a few sour grapes of wrath for the person who ruined it for us. They did it cheaper and faster, and what was once a phase has now become a trait.
We could have had meals, but now all you want to do is snack. Give yourself enough distractions and perhaps you can put off finding who you really are indefinitely. The person who cares least always wins, which guarantees I’ll lose those battles every time.