It seemed like I was fine, apparently I wasn't. I am not still. I have a lot of questions that were left hanging for quite sometime now. I was never the confrontational one simply because I'm one helluva coward. Thinking through, is there really a point to talk about it? Or would doing so just break us in a gazillion pieces?
This is the most complicated, and unconventional, by far. Being the most extraordinary of set ups, this had me all puzzled and confused on a whole lot of levels.
On my part, was there regret? I don't do regrets. I guess all along I wanted to know what was really there, if something ever was. I draw the line there, in knowing. I don't even consider doing anything about it and brush off the thought like dust immediately. That would be just suicide and we both know it.
And had it been not me in that place, in that time, would the events be the same?
I need the answers. For my sanity and peace of mind.
|Photo grabbed from Deviant Art.|