But it was all but a game. I deigned to think that it was an elaborate game involving the gamut of human emotions ranging from the innocent to the decadent, encompassing pure earnestness to villifying indifference.
I write this now from an island, having segregated myself from any such childish capriciousness. I do not gaze at the Sky with clouds of asinine magnanimous thoughts anymore. Although I admit, in this particular moment of reminiscing, I taste my bitterness and savour its fullness. I felt slighted by you & my own foolishness. This needs to be said (again. A thousand times over).
To be completely honest (as I seem to be in the mood for it right now), this drunken display of old wounds is the effects of my reading a book. I have not read, truly read a book in a while now. I have forgotten what it was like to explore the vagaries of human motivations in such beautiful passages.
The book came by your hand. No, simply left behind. That distinction I am now fully capable of making now that I am not affected by you anymore.
Again, what can anybody construe this for anything but-, I shall say no more. I expect this to please you, no matter how superficially. Though I understand that it might not affect you at all. Not anymore, not ever, in fact. See how desolate I actually am?
In this frame of mind, in this indulgent moment, I acknowledge what I have (finally) discarded. We are not meant for the proximity that I idealised.