..It went
on and on. And she started crying as if it were her to be hurt. She was
lamenting over her boundless sadness, she couldn’t believe the fact, she was
unable to admit the truth.

And me...
What could I have done? Any attempt to stop her was absolutely useless... The
thing that I clearly understood at that moment was that I actually didn’t
give a f*ck about her. She was crying because of me but I didn’t feel guilty, I
didn’t feel sad, I just didn’t care. The whole “performance” didn’t move me.

Each time
I’m thinking about all this sh*t now, I’m convincing myself more and more that
we were wrong. Everything was wrong. There was no way for our relationship to
be perfect. There was no chance for us.

Now, I
guess, she has a better life, she needs neither to pretend nor to abase
herself. She must be happy.

And me...
I’m happy, as well. She just wasn’t the one for me. It doesn’t mean anything
that I’m single now. I do enjoy my life. To the fullest.

And still
there was something in her that was fabulous, that was constantly making me
bend down before her. There was something amazing in her character and in her
appearance, something that I really loved.