THE BREAKUP

There was suddenly a minute of realization, a fire within, a questioning process that propelled me to conquer the fear to let go. And if so, what? What if I say how I feel? What if I love myself enough to step away from the unnecessary worry to fix the unfixable, to mend the breakable.  What if I make a conscious decision to embrace serenity and to invite happiness to the most pleasant of the solitudes?

Love was then a transitory fantasy. Love was possibly a burning flame in continuos extinguishment o just some sort of serious state of infatuation. Our love affair was a fresh parenthesis in a state of despair, the credible answer to old queries, the possibility within an evident level of uncertainty.

I took a closer look at my former wounds. I was unsure whether these had closed or not. Indeed, I was healed. Flashback memories of a closer past had recently paid me a short visit; a casual reminder of my personal value. So, I chose to honor my presence. I set out the ways I deserved to be treated, not as a way of satisfying my ego but as a way of paying the highest of the respects to my persona. It was simple… very simple.

When the end arrived, we had the briefest of the conversations and the firm determination to set ourselves free. Soon enough, the cage was open. All discomfort was over. I had surpassed the sadness of losing him countless times and the imminent fear of finding myself alone in a continuous search for love.

There was no need to rekindle old sentiments through an exhaustive examination of the past. There was no need. The only need I had was to write, just write.

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