I have never stopped thinking about it, intermittently, for the past two years or so (no, in fact, THREE). I still remember vividly some conversations and all. Probably because things occasionally remind me of it. And probably because I never had an answer to it; no proper closure. Things happened in a flurry then.

I don’t know of its worth emotionally investing so much in it because it may have been nothing in the first place. All this comes down to the very fact that I don’t know what happened, I just don’t know.

I wonder if you knew.

And I’m kept wondering whether it’s my fault and I threw it all away. Again, without knowing anything. One moment I think it’s my fault and that I should have asked, the other moment I berate myself, thinking why should I be the one asking. But then again, I don’t think I should be putting the blame on anyone. Perhaps we’re just victims of circumstances then.

(I think this is the first time I’m properly reflecting upon it, when in the past I just asked questions repeatedly in my mind, yet again, left answer-less)

I’ll only muster enough courage to ask, perhaps, 10 years down the road. At the time, hopefully, that curiosity would have diluted to almost nothing. So much would have passed, and I might have found something else worth my attention, that asking all these wouldn’t really have any effect on my pride and emotions anymore.

Haha, why am I taking this so seriously. Yeah, if only I knew.


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