So I guess this is it ...
I never wanted to say good-bye ...
but you already did ...
I tried fighting it ...
but it does not work ...
I just get sucked into depression ...
screaming for see you later ...
I do not understand how you ...
how you can just say good-bye ...
I refuse to see you go forever ...
but you have already gone ...
I feel so much pain right now ...
since you no longer want to be friends ...
14 February, 2011
06 February, 2011
Wedding Vows
She remembers her wedding vows; from the first time she met him she knew he was someone different. The light just struck his face differently. He shimmered, well not literally, and like a moth to a flame she was drawn. She had her doubts at first, but was willing to risk it for him. And now it has blossomed into this marriage, this undeniable bond between the two. There have been troubles along the way, but they were all worth it to get to this moment, standing before him, looking into his eyes, and near the verge of crying, for the happiness is overbearing. She can repeat these vows verbatim by memory.
He, although not as confident as his wife, remembers his vows; it was seemingly harmless to meet a potential friend, but never did he think this would be the result. To marry the one girl who made him laugh, smile, cry and have feelings these immense never seemed like a possibility for him in his life. He never expected to marry, nor expect to find someone he thought he would even want to marry. But as he stands before her, in front of family and friends, he has never felt so sure of something in his life. He can remember these nerves overwhelming him.
The two seal the deal with an “I do.”
“No, we do not need more potato chips in the house,” she turns away from him as he begins to scowl at her. “Maybe if you finished anything you begin with you would actually eat the chips at home instead of every week wanting a new bag.”
“They are stale! And you are one to talk about wanting new things when you aren’t finished. Do you want a carton of Cameron Masterson with that chocolate syrup? Or are you going to finish with me first?” The yelling begins to reverberate through the aisle.
She would smile at him, a soft reminder of the warm feelings towards him, as she kisses his cheek. He, although the stereotypical macho man, would blush and back himself away for a brief moment to revel in the sweet affection of his girlfriend. Slowly she would walk away, tears beginning to fall down her cheek, to return back to her house and not see him for at least another week. Yet the two were not destroyed like they should have been by the unfortunate circumstances their relationship existed in. Instead they would text until four o’clock in the morning, as if they were lying next to each other sharing the same pillow. It was this separation that connected the two deeper.
Her eyes begin to water, “Are you kidding me?! Wha…what…what would you… do you want me to do about that now?! Do you… like… want me to invent some sort of time machine and and and make myself… my past self… remember how much I love you now?!”
He retorts, “I want you not to do it!”
Only because she cannot fathom such a response she begins to laugh, “Are you… are you joking?” He stares back at her without a smile. “Listen,” she continues, “there is nothing I can do anymore but love you… but now you are making it so difficult… it is like a chore…”
Every day she would go to work, upset that she still made minimum wage and her college degree in medicine meant nothing more than a paper badge of pride. She came home to the same dinner table inhabited by her father, mother and younger sister. Miserably, she was forced into this life and continually dreaded each passing moment she had to sit at the table to discuss how the world could be better if everyone was a white Christian who attended mass every Sunday. With the phone in her hand, she would sit through the banter while thinking of her atheist boyfriend. Yet the phone never would ring, no matter how much she would pray for it to.
“A chore?! Well sorry that I cannot give you everything you need,” he battles back.
“Not what I meant! Not what I meant!” she tries interrupting. “You are twisting the words that I said!”
“No I am not, you said that loving me was a chore, didn’t you?” She nods with anticipation of being able to explain her thoughts but he continues, “So I am sorry that loving me is a chore, hunny, and that I cannot make you happy.”
“This is not what I said!” she screams.
While his parents did not invest much interest in his love life, her parents would express an interest but nothing short of wanting the gossip of their daughter’s life, which the neighbors would misconstrue as a “genuine concern about their daughter.” Often the dinner conversation would revolve around this “concern” of their daughter’s prospective mate, and how their idea of him would be a “refined young Christian gentleman with a secure job.” Always she would think after hearing these words that her boyfriend did not have a chance of survival in her house and that he was the exact opposite of everything her parents ever wanted for her. But she never actually cared about that, she was still in love with him. In fact, the one time he did visit as her “friend,” she was forbidden from allowing him in the house again. From then on out she would resort to lying to her parents just to see his face.
“I cannot even look at you right now!” he screams at her.
Unable to control herself she begins to cry, “I just want to know what happened to us. I used to lie to my parents just to be with you…even if just for an hour and…” she pauses her thoughts, unable to form words.
“and…now what?” he questions impatiently forcing her to finish her although broken sentence.
She swallows and breathes, “…now… our lives revolve around fighting over anything…when did this happen!?”
They would always embrace each time they met like it was the first time in ages that they saw each other. Vacations to mundane locations like the beach were their nirvana as a couple. They would look into the rolling waves and wonder about life on the other side of the ocean. Laughs would echo across the sand as people on the beach would start at their innocent, childish love.
“You know when? It was when you decided to throw our love through the window and decided to fuck Cameron whatever the shit his name is… that’s when!”
Only a few weeks into the relationship, she was weak. She could not stand her home life and could not stand not being able to see or talk to her boyfriend who lived across the state. Upset she went over her friend Cameron’s house, who she knew was always down for a quick fuck, but she herself just wanted to hang out, relax and vent about her life. Yet, as the night progressed Cameron and her became dangerously close. Then Cameron began to kiss her and she pushed him back. Unfinished, Cameron went back for a second kiss as she pushed him back again. She was incredibly upset at what was transpiring but she had no time to react. When Cameron came to her for a third time, she began to kiss back for a few seconds while grabbing her coat and shoes. With possessions in hand, she broke away from the kiss and she jetted out of the door. Riddled with guilt, she confessed everything to him later in the week and readied herself out of his life. Before she could leave the room, he saw her tears and grabbed her. Wiping the water from her eyes he said, “I am surprised and hurt…but I could never imagine my life without you.”
“I never fucked anyone but you!” she screams at him. “You said you forgave me but I guess you only forgive me when you can’t use it against me. If you couldn’t … if you couldn’t get over it, then why… why, I implore you, did you bother marrying me?” she questions.
“Because I love you!” he replies.
She always cuddled close to him on the bed when he put on a movie. She never wanted to watch any of the movies he picked, but she never complained. With her arms wrapped around him, she never had a reason to complain. In fact, many of the times she would stare into his eyes so intently watching the screen, and she would simply smile. Slowly she would inch closer to his body and begin to fall asleep.
The two look at each other. “So what happened to us?” she asks.
He shook his head, disappointed, “I asked for a bag of chips.”
It has been six months since the divorce. Both fought to keep the marriage going but the tornado already touched ground, and everything that once was ended completely in disarray. He moved on though, right after the infamous grocery store fight, while she still sat there every night wondering how things could be different. They both actively think about the beginning of it all, the perfect mix of new and old, sharing their first moments like they have been friends for years. Then it changed.
He already has been living his life for months; meanwhile she sulks in self-pity for hours of the day, thinking she has a chance with him and refuses to let her heart to be drowned by the noisy divorce. “I will remain single or remarry my ex-husband,” she tells all of her friends, who respond with the same monotone “you need to get over him.” Yet she refuses.
It took a month after their big grocery store blow up for her to actually muster up the courage to file for divorce, but he had already made his decision just simply never cared to actually file for the divorce. He was content continuing his one life with her and the other he was already living. Every night he came home late and she waited for him to stumble through the bedroom door. She would scream and yell, but in the back of her mind she realized how much she was in love with him. She would shout her jealous slurs, trying to destroy him with guilt, and he would turn his back to her while quickly falling asleep. She would lean over to him to touch him and turn him to look into his face, but he would refuse to. She would pull her body up and look over his shoulder to see his face, which by now would be silently sleeping, yet she would always smile. She would stare for a few minutes more, when tears would form upon her cheek realizing he was already out of her reach, and there was no way of her retrieving him or his heart. She fought for a month like this, until she realized he was not happy anymore knowing he was already gone. Gaining all the courage she could, she suggested divorce, and he accepted the proposal without hestitation.
The time during the divorce was just as rough for her. She watched the world she was so content living in be destroyed before her eyes, by herself, and she saw him smile again. He moved out quickly and the two would talk occasionally, but she had to delete his phone number and e-mail in hopes that she could move forward by doing this. He would still tell her that he loved her and that he missed her, and every time she questioned if the divorce was the right thing for them he avoided the question. She knew that was his hint to her to move on in life, but she had no idea how to. She wanted for him to just say it, “I do not love you like I used to,” but he never did. Fantasies continued to replay through her mind about her and him lying in bed laughing about how cute the other one is. Soon the divorce was completed, and legally they were free from the other.
Never did she care about the marriage though, because she cared about him. He continued to live his life without telling her anything about whom and what he was doing. She never thought he would do be able to just continue on so easily, so she never really questioned what he was doing more than “what’s up?” Nevertheless, he was moving forward, unlike her. At work, she could not focus on anything and her coworkers knew exactly what she was going through and offered the same “you need to get over him” monotone advice. Despite this, her workload continued to grow but her willingness to complete it diminished. Lacking motivation, she began focusing on all of the problems she had in her marriage… and accepted all of the blame. Completely lost, she bothered him constantly through whatever method she could but simply never got the answers she wanted, so she continued struggling through her life.
Speculations swirled through her mind of all of the possibilities of what he was doing and where he was. She imagined him with Ashra, that perfect girl for him that was interested in everything he was. Ashra would do everything together with him and Ashra was so gorgeous that all she could say in her mind was, “Well, he was always out of my league anyway.” She imagined him and Ashra at the beach, smiling like he and she used to, but Ashra and him would never fight nor raise their voices, and she sighed at the thought that maybe he does deserve it and should be with Ashra; but she wanted too much to change her mind and just be back with him herself. She was depressed and pessimistic about this thought and blamed herself and her appearance as all of the problems they ever had. Yet, she never would speak of these things aloud and internalized her self-doubt.
Thoughts of his misery also lapsed in her head, that maybe every time their song came on that he thought about her and thought about calling her; but he never did. Because of this, she never actually believed that he missed her, no matter how much he said it in their occasional once every two week e-mail; she believed his actions never portrayed it. Plus, she was so confident that her thought of this perfect girl Ashra was actually happening that she was coping with the idea that he was in love with someone else.
Six months after the divorce, she sits quietly in her white bedroom, calming herself with thoughts of his happiness with Ashra. She hardly moves and constantly thinks, “What is the point?” Occasionally she laughs, although no one is really sure why, and every night she wakes up at least once and darts her eyes around the room wondering where he is and why he is not there.
It has been a year after the divorce now, and she receives a letter in the mail, “We should just be friends.” She immediately cries and begins to flashback to the years of their relationship once more… the perfect years before the two knew how to get under the other’s skin. And soon the memories settled to the dirt beneath her feet.
“No,” she gained the courage say, “No, we shouldn’t be friends. We can’t be friends. Maybe in the future we can be friends, but not now. Not…now.” She imagines while she says this that his arms were around Ashra as he wrote the letter. In her head, he probably smiled and kissed Ashra again while he said to Ashra, “Babe, I need to just finish this letter… she has gone crazy because of me.” Ashra probably muttered, “fuck that bitch.”
Strangely this image helps soothe her. Still in love with him, she imagines his smile while he wraps himself around Ashra and realizes she does not have a problem with Ashra or him. She realizes that she is finally being lifted the chains which locked her to his heart for years. Now, she has no reason to think about him or his possible new lover Ashra, or if she and him should or could ever get back together. She was free.
Falling to the floor she attempts to gain her composure. She, in the moment of clarity and pure understanding in her mind, was still muddied by the memories and feelings of her heart. Suffocating her face in her hands, she cannot fully shake the effects of her completely shattered heart.
Bawling now on the wooden floor with his image bombarding her mind, she grabs a box of tissues and rereads the words, “We should just be friends.” She recalls the story that he used to tell her. It was about his last relationship when he received a letter from his ex whom he loved with all of this heart,
“Dear you,
I love you immensely, but I do not think we are ready. We should just be friends.
Love,
Ashra.”
How bittersweet.
He, although not as confident as his wife, remembers his vows; it was seemingly harmless to meet a potential friend, but never did he think this would be the result. To marry the one girl who made him laugh, smile, cry and have feelings these immense never seemed like a possibility for him in his life. He never expected to marry, nor expect to find someone he thought he would even want to marry. But as he stands before her, in front of family and friends, he has never felt so sure of something in his life. He can remember these nerves overwhelming him.
The two seal the deal with an “I do.”
“No, we do not need more potato chips in the house,” she turns away from him as he begins to scowl at her. “Maybe if you finished anything you begin with you would actually eat the chips at home instead of every week wanting a new bag.”
“They are stale! And you are one to talk about wanting new things when you aren’t finished. Do you want a carton of Cameron Masterson with that chocolate syrup? Or are you going to finish with me first?” The yelling begins to reverberate through the aisle.
She would smile at him, a soft reminder of the warm feelings towards him, as she kisses his cheek. He, although the stereotypical macho man, would blush and back himself away for a brief moment to revel in the sweet affection of his girlfriend. Slowly she would walk away, tears beginning to fall down her cheek, to return back to her house and not see him for at least another week. Yet the two were not destroyed like they should have been by the unfortunate circumstances their relationship existed in. Instead they would text until four o’clock in the morning, as if they were lying next to each other sharing the same pillow. It was this separation that connected the two deeper.
Her eyes begin to water, “Are you kidding me?! Wha…what…what would you… do you want me to do about that now?! Do you… like… want me to invent some sort of time machine and and and make myself… my past self… remember how much I love you now?!”
He retorts, “I want you not to do it!”
Only because she cannot fathom such a response she begins to laugh, “Are you… are you joking?” He stares back at her without a smile. “Listen,” she continues, “there is nothing I can do anymore but love you… but now you are making it so difficult… it is like a chore…”
Every day she would go to work, upset that she still made minimum wage and her college degree in medicine meant nothing more than a paper badge of pride. She came home to the same dinner table inhabited by her father, mother and younger sister. Miserably, she was forced into this life and continually dreaded each passing moment she had to sit at the table to discuss how the world could be better if everyone was a white Christian who attended mass every Sunday. With the phone in her hand, she would sit through the banter while thinking of her atheist boyfriend. Yet the phone never would ring, no matter how much she would pray for it to.
“A chore?! Well sorry that I cannot give you everything you need,” he battles back.
“Not what I meant! Not what I meant!” she tries interrupting. “You are twisting the words that I said!”
“No I am not, you said that loving me was a chore, didn’t you?” She nods with anticipation of being able to explain her thoughts but he continues, “So I am sorry that loving me is a chore, hunny, and that I cannot make you happy.”
“This is not what I said!” she screams.
While his parents did not invest much interest in his love life, her parents would express an interest but nothing short of wanting the gossip of their daughter’s life, which the neighbors would misconstrue as a “genuine concern about their daughter.” Often the dinner conversation would revolve around this “concern” of their daughter’s prospective mate, and how their idea of him would be a “refined young Christian gentleman with a secure job.” Always she would think after hearing these words that her boyfriend did not have a chance of survival in her house and that he was the exact opposite of everything her parents ever wanted for her. But she never actually cared about that, she was still in love with him. In fact, the one time he did visit as her “friend,” she was forbidden from allowing him in the house again. From then on out she would resort to lying to her parents just to see his face.
“I cannot even look at you right now!” he screams at her.
Unable to control herself she begins to cry, “I just want to know what happened to us. I used to lie to my parents just to be with you…even if just for an hour and…” she pauses her thoughts, unable to form words.
“and…now what?” he questions impatiently forcing her to finish her although broken sentence.
She swallows and breathes, “…now… our lives revolve around fighting over anything…when did this happen!?”
They would always embrace each time they met like it was the first time in ages that they saw each other. Vacations to mundane locations like the beach were their nirvana as a couple. They would look into the rolling waves and wonder about life on the other side of the ocean. Laughs would echo across the sand as people on the beach would start at their innocent, childish love.
“You know when? It was when you decided to throw our love through the window and decided to fuck Cameron whatever the shit his name is… that’s when!”
Only a few weeks into the relationship, she was weak. She could not stand her home life and could not stand not being able to see or talk to her boyfriend who lived across the state. Upset she went over her friend Cameron’s house, who she knew was always down for a quick fuck, but she herself just wanted to hang out, relax and vent about her life. Yet, as the night progressed Cameron and her became dangerously close. Then Cameron began to kiss her and she pushed him back. Unfinished, Cameron went back for a second kiss as she pushed him back again. She was incredibly upset at what was transpiring but she had no time to react. When Cameron came to her for a third time, she began to kiss back for a few seconds while grabbing her coat and shoes. With possessions in hand, she broke away from the kiss and she jetted out of the door. Riddled with guilt, she confessed everything to him later in the week and readied herself out of his life. Before she could leave the room, he saw her tears and grabbed her. Wiping the water from her eyes he said, “I am surprised and hurt…but I could never imagine my life without you.”
“I never fucked anyone but you!” she screams at him. “You said you forgave me but I guess you only forgive me when you can’t use it against me. If you couldn’t … if you couldn’t get over it, then why… why, I implore you, did you bother marrying me?” she questions.
“Because I love you!” he replies.
She always cuddled close to him on the bed when he put on a movie. She never wanted to watch any of the movies he picked, but she never complained. With her arms wrapped around him, she never had a reason to complain. In fact, many of the times she would stare into his eyes so intently watching the screen, and she would simply smile. Slowly she would inch closer to his body and begin to fall asleep.
The two look at each other. “So what happened to us?” she asks.
He shook his head, disappointed, “I asked for a bag of chips.”
It has been six months since the divorce. Both fought to keep the marriage going but the tornado already touched ground, and everything that once was ended completely in disarray. He moved on though, right after the infamous grocery store fight, while she still sat there every night wondering how things could be different. They both actively think about the beginning of it all, the perfect mix of new and old, sharing their first moments like they have been friends for years. Then it changed.
He already has been living his life for months; meanwhile she sulks in self-pity for hours of the day, thinking she has a chance with him and refuses to let her heart to be drowned by the noisy divorce. “I will remain single or remarry my ex-husband,” she tells all of her friends, who respond with the same monotone “you need to get over him.” Yet she refuses.
It took a month after their big grocery store blow up for her to actually muster up the courage to file for divorce, but he had already made his decision just simply never cared to actually file for the divorce. He was content continuing his one life with her and the other he was already living. Every night he came home late and she waited for him to stumble through the bedroom door. She would scream and yell, but in the back of her mind she realized how much she was in love with him. She would shout her jealous slurs, trying to destroy him with guilt, and he would turn his back to her while quickly falling asleep. She would lean over to him to touch him and turn him to look into his face, but he would refuse to. She would pull her body up and look over his shoulder to see his face, which by now would be silently sleeping, yet she would always smile. She would stare for a few minutes more, when tears would form upon her cheek realizing he was already out of her reach, and there was no way of her retrieving him or his heart. She fought for a month like this, until she realized he was not happy anymore knowing he was already gone. Gaining all the courage she could, she suggested divorce, and he accepted the proposal without hestitation.
The time during the divorce was just as rough for her. She watched the world she was so content living in be destroyed before her eyes, by herself, and she saw him smile again. He moved out quickly and the two would talk occasionally, but she had to delete his phone number and e-mail in hopes that she could move forward by doing this. He would still tell her that he loved her and that he missed her, and every time she questioned if the divorce was the right thing for them he avoided the question. She knew that was his hint to her to move on in life, but she had no idea how to. She wanted for him to just say it, “I do not love you like I used to,” but he never did. Fantasies continued to replay through her mind about her and him lying in bed laughing about how cute the other one is. Soon the divorce was completed, and legally they were free from the other.
Never did she care about the marriage though, because she cared about him. He continued to live his life without telling her anything about whom and what he was doing. She never thought he would do be able to just continue on so easily, so she never really questioned what he was doing more than “what’s up?” Nevertheless, he was moving forward, unlike her. At work, she could not focus on anything and her coworkers knew exactly what she was going through and offered the same “you need to get over him” monotone advice. Despite this, her workload continued to grow but her willingness to complete it diminished. Lacking motivation, she began focusing on all of the problems she had in her marriage… and accepted all of the blame. Completely lost, she bothered him constantly through whatever method she could but simply never got the answers she wanted, so she continued struggling through her life.
Speculations swirled through her mind of all of the possibilities of what he was doing and where he was. She imagined him with Ashra, that perfect girl for him that was interested in everything he was. Ashra would do everything together with him and Ashra was so gorgeous that all she could say in her mind was, “Well, he was always out of my league anyway.” She imagined him and Ashra at the beach, smiling like he and she used to, but Ashra and him would never fight nor raise their voices, and she sighed at the thought that maybe he does deserve it and should be with Ashra; but she wanted too much to change her mind and just be back with him herself. She was depressed and pessimistic about this thought and blamed herself and her appearance as all of the problems they ever had. Yet, she never would speak of these things aloud and internalized her self-doubt.
Thoughts of his misery also lapsed in her head, that maybe every time their song came on that he thought about her and thought about calling her; but he never did. Because of this, she never actually believed that he missed her, no matter how much he said it in their occasional once every two week e-mail; she believed his actions never portrayed it. Plus, she was so confident that her thought of this perfect girl Ashra was actually happening that she was coping with the idea that he was in love with someone else.
Six months after the divorce, she sits quietly in her white bedroom, calming herself with thoughts of his happiness with Ashra. She hardly moves and constantly thinks, “What is the point?” Occasionally she laughs, although no one is really sure why, and every night she wakes up at least once and darts her eyes around the room wondering where he is and why he is not there.
It has been a year after the divorce now, and she receives a letter in the mail, “We should just be friends.” She immediately cries and begins to flashback to the years of their relationship once more… the perfect years before the two knew how to get under the other’s skin. And soon the memories settled to the dirt beneath her feet.
“No,” she gained the courage say, “No, we shouldn’t be friends. We can’t be friends. Maybe in the future we can be friends, but not now. Not…now.” She imagines while she says this that his arms were around Ashra as he wrote the letter. In her head, he probably smiled and kissed Ashra again while he said to Ashra, “Babe, I need to just finish this letter… she has gone crazy because of me.” Ashra probably muttered, “fuck that bitch.”
Strangely this image helps soothe her. Still in love with him, she imagines his smile while he wraps himself around Ashra and realizes she does not have a problem with Ashra or him. She realizes that she is finally being lifted the chains which locked her to his heart for years. Now, she has no reason to think about him or his possible new lover Ashra, or if she and him should or could ever get back together. She was free.
Falling to the floor she attempts to gain her composure. She, in the moment of clarity and pure understanding in her mind, was still muddied by the memories and feelings of her heart. Suffocating her face in her hands, she cannot fully shake the effects of her completely shattered heart.
Bawling now on the wooden floor with his image bombarding her mind, she grabs a box of tissues and rereads the words, “We should just be friends.” She recalls the story that he used to tell her. It was about his last relationship when he received a letter from his ex whom he loved with all of this heart,
“Dear you,
I love you immensely, but I do not think we are ready. We should just be friends.
Love,
Ashra.”
How bittersweet.
Unforgivable
I thought this was different than what it was. And now the only thing I can fathom writing is one solid stream of consciousness without hesitation or re-visitation. I thought I was the one who wronged you, but you played me. You had me completely wrapped around your finger until you decided that it was good enough to release me. I used to think that maybe I was not a good enough person for you, until I realized that, hell, you are the biggest asshole I may have ever met. Now do not get me wrong, I still would do anything for you if you asked and I wish you only the best in life, but seriously, learn something along the way.
You were able to manipulate my heart like it was nothing, like you had no idea what that contained. You said all of the right words to soothe me when I was in pain, and yet you did it only to soothe your own pain while you set up the biggest mastermind scheme of them all, and you succeeded. Congratulations. And at what cost did you do it? None to you I can assure.
I have no pity for myself, or for you. All I can imagine is that you are happier than ever and I am happy for you. Just realize I will never forgive you for the way you decided to treat me, because no one should ever be in the position I was put in, and yet you found it "acceptable" to do so. However, I never wish your heart sinks as low as mine did and that you always have a smile on your face. Sometimes it is best to find out things in the worst way possible, then to live the biggest lie in the world.
Here is lesson one for your ongoing life's journey.
Do not be a coward
I would never feel this way if you just had the heart and balls to tell it like it was months ago.
You were able to manipulate my heart like it was nothing, like you had no idea what that contained. You said all of the right words to soothe me when I was in pain, and yet you did it only to soothe your own pain while you set up the biggest mastermind scheme of them all, and you succeeded. Congratulations. And at what cost did you do it? None to you I can assure.
I have no pity for myself, or for you. All I can imagine is that you are happier than ever and I am happy for you. Just realize I will never forgive you for the way you decided to treat me, because no one should ever be in the position I was put in, and yet you found it "acceptable" to do so. However, I never wish your heart sinks as low as mine did and that you always have a smile on your face. Sometimes it is best to find out things in the worst way possible, then to live the biggest lie in the world.
Here is lesson one for your ongoing life's journey.
Do not be a coward
I would never feel this way if you just had the heart and balls to tell it like it was months ago.
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