We could’ve worked, but it’s so good that we didn’t.
You’re happy with her and she’s happy with you. She gave you things I couldn’t. A family. I could never give you that and it’s a piece of me that is missing. Maybe it’s the most important piece. Maybe it’s not. Would you have stayed with me if I could give it to you? How would things have turned out?
Maybe I’ll always be alone. When you pass through my circles, I try to appear happy, like I haven’t missed out on anything and I’m exactly where I want to be, like it made no difference to me that you rejected my lack of being able to give you a family, but deep down, I wonder if anyone can ever love someone so broken and bruised. My smile, once so sparkling, is now painful and forced. Why does the world force us to grow up? If I could just escape it all, could I forget the truth?
I’ve very good at appearing okay, thriving even, but maybe that’s all it will ever be.