Mercury Retrograde

It’s rather strange when I think about how much time I spend thinking about love given that it has hurt me in the past without being in an actual committed relationship. Being in the position wherein I was compelled by my own morals and principles to inhibit myself to be a surrogate in the absence of a lover. It was easy to give in and forego guilt. It was my happiness and relentless bliss that kept me in it for as long as I can hoodwink my conscience.

But I can’t.

It was not a matter of being upstanding or prudish, but there will come a moment of epiphany that is even beyond the confines of what’s wrong and right. It’s just as much as, “It’s wrong to be with him, he’s already with someone,” as it is with “I must not ruin a relationship, it is wrong.” But that is not the case anymore. When you commit yourself into a life of halves – half-truth, half-happiness, half-here, half-yours – one of your feet is already in a murky pit. When you ask yourself, “Does he love me enough to choose me? Is there an existing universe that grants paradise for the one who loves the man he must, yet cannot have?” – you must prepare yourself, for the rhetoric only begs for your other foot in the pit.

I cannot give that much. That is why I have to walk away – while I still can. Because all I have is me. That’s the absurd reality. Sometimes, “I love you,” means, “Do you love me?” Not all of us can love unselfishly, to keep loving from a distance until the distance keeps us away from the love we deserve.

It takes a great deal of courage to fight for the people, for things dear to us. But it takes another kind of daring to let go.

Let him go, let both of you go, and let the feelings go.

Screen grab from ‘Pierrot le Fou’, 1965


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