Can we begin again?
I don’t think so.
Is it kinder to allow you to think I am in love with you?
I don’t know.
May I continue to care for you, feel deep affection, and consider you my unrequited lover?
Yet, is it even more kind to allow you to feel that I have loved you too much?
So much that you must end the relationship of two years of intimacy and unrequested service to my burdensome medical needs? Is this not your modus operandi?
I do not know for certain. Only that my dreams are all that have dried up…dissipated…died. I still, and always will care for you, feel deep affection, and will wonder about your contrived well-being.
And so I walk on. Detach. Leave.
I am gone. And it is the next right step.