I know I have moved on. I’m quite sure of it. I don’t think about him at all. Well, sometimes he crosses my mind, yes, but I guess it can’t be helped. There was a period of time that I did love him. Very much. Too much.
Then there were times when I really miss him or maybe just the idea of us when we were together. Most of my happiest times were with him, because of him. I was happy. We were happy but just like most of the young lovers of this generation, we fell apart. But I guess it can’t be helped. It lasted for a short period of time. It happened fast. Very fast. Too fast.
Then I realized the pattern. Each and every time, people leave me. The most important men in my life all left me. My dad, my first love, him. Each and every time was painful, but I guess it can’t be helped. It’s true, you know, what people often say. When you love, there’s always pain.
I always love people more than they love me. I always care for people more than they care for me. I always give people trust even though some do not deserve it. I’m always too kind, too soft-hearted. People would ask, “How can you live in this cruel world?” and I’d reply “I guess it can’t be helped. This is me.”