Now that both of us are broken and angry, let me propose an imaginary toast to celebrate life; its bizarre puzzles, its unmerciful lessons. Let’s not confirm our own truths to each other since they are the truest grey, the bluest prey. I understand that you’re trying to find answers, while I am being silent. But you know me pretty well, so please deal with it. We should be too tired at this point to pull the blame game, anyway.

I told you once, my heart is this archaic machinery. An obsolete burden of misery. You, were an ageless cloak that covers the oak. I used to wake up in the morning realizing that I am a better person when I am with you, but we have come such a long way to realize that it’s never enough for both you and me.

Your love taught me how to feel, to shed a tear but I often feel permanently ill. We traveled so damn far to be together but with you, the most important place I visited was myself. That scary, dusty part of me that is as important as my boring ego, endless parade of disgusting pride.

I am sure you know the hardest part of all of this is to rebuild yourself and slowly remove piece-by-piece what you have invested. Post long-haul flights and short-fused fights, I can safely say that there is no distance left to run. This hurts so much, we are failing so hard.

I wish you well, I really do. A small, peculiar chunk of my heart belongs to you, and all of the good things you have done to me and my life. See you on the other side.

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