It’s past midnight and I have spent the last 6 hours thinking of you. Thinking about where we are really headed. Of the risks I would be taking. Of the bridges I’ll be burning.

I have decided to keep everything to myself because I knew there was no point of letting you know these truths. They weren’t important, they don’t matter. At least for you, in my belief. Because I know that it wouldn’t change anything. Because I know you wouldn’t care.

Many of my friends are well aware of how you changed my life. They know how, when you came along, my life took a sudden turn. They saw how happy you made me. They felt how changed I was because of having you.

They, too, have seen how devastated I was when I found out the truth, when everything unfolded in front of me. They heard all my cries. They felt the pain I did.

And here I am going through every single detail of all that had transpired between the two of us. I look back at how it started and how things found their way. I look back and trace all the memories I shouldn’t be looking into. I look back and instead of finding answers, I get more questions.

There were so many questions left unanswered. Of course, I’ve wanted to know the answer but then I realized I better leave them as they are. You wouldn’t answer them truthfully anyway. You would only give what would benefit you. I wanted to hate you. I wanted to hate you so badly just so I can hurt you. But that is too pathetic.

I get more questions and I know, clearly, all the answers to them. They all point to one thing: I should let you go.

I should let you go because I know full well what you want. Who you want. I know what can and who can make you happy. I know what kind of future you foresee and I am not part of that. Hell, you’ve been dragging me into it. But we both know why you do. It’s not something I signed up for. Never will.

I am sorry that I cut you off like that. But I will never be sorry for choosing my own happiness over yours. You made your choice and I am making mine. This is my truth. That is yours.

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