"It's the right thing to do," they say, "and it may be hard, but you'll feel good about it in the end."
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You nod, because you agree, because some part of you, at least, knows it's true. Has known it's true for quite some time. It hurts to admit it, but hey, that's life. And you have to do what's right, right?
So you go ahead and crush some kid's heart under your heel, someone who's loved you and trusted you and believed in you and built a future around you. You do it because you love him, but not enough, and that's just not fair to him. And it feels like you're slitting your own throat at the same time, but you think it will pass, because it was the right thing to do, and the sheer righteousness of it all will smooth the hurt away. For you, of course. Not for him.
Then you wake up all surprised that it still hurts, that everything in the room still reminds you of him, and there's that feeling of wrongness still in lingering in the back of your head. Why, if it was so right, so obvious, so necessary, does it bother you so much? Why are you still so uncertain? Wonder if you made a mistake, if you should take it all back, but no, that's not right, either.
God and damn, this shit confuses me.
"You need chaos within, to give birth to a dancing star."
-- Friedrich Nietsche