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There was something wonderful and happy and light, yet with the possibility to become yet more profound and meaningful, that chanced to come my way. Like the rare seed that falls on good ground.  But I knew from the beginning could only be for a brief moment, at least in the form in which it came to me.  I didn’t and don’t know when such a fortuitous moment will come again.

I met a guy, walking down the street in Paris. I knew I’d only be there for another two months.

The seed fell on fertile soil, but I’m not sure how deep its roots are. You see, it was a brief growing season.  Not sure what the flower or the fruit might have been if they had had the time.

I cried to lose it. I cried for what might have been.

I loved my little seedling to death. I sang to it, watered it with my tears of joy, poured my heart into it.  Not every moment, but when my mind with all its fears and memories of sad and hurtful pasts was looking the other way, or was simply stilled by my simple happiness.

I am sad now because he didn’t shed a tear at its passing, this too brief and often beautiful season. A human relationship with its ups and downs, a fleeting romance perhaps, maybe a bit more than a fling.

He says, “I made time for you. We can’t have a relationship. This is the reality, we will see each other again.” How do you seem so callous?  I don’t care what the reality is, I know it well myself: uncertainty. unknown.

For a brief moment of hope, I thought his stoicism came from truly not wanting it to end, because he might have wanted a longer commitment, a real commitment. Heck, he seemed to treat me well enough.  I wasn’t sure if I wanted that, really, but I wondered if my own “realism” in not expecting it had blinded me to the possibility, or prevented it from being considered.  A self-fulfilling prophecy.  That wasn’t the case- it wasn’t an option for him.

So now, I’ve been sad and mad. Because he acted like the last time we saw each other was just another day.  Maybe it was.  Because he didn’t make me any promises to comfort me, or shed any tears with me.  Because all I needed was to hear him say, “You are precious to me.”  Not even I love you, that implies commitment. I just needed to know the scales were tipped equally in both directions.

And I’m still crying, almost wordless tears. Emotions that are so raw, so basic, so human, they don’t have a name that I know of. Disappointed, hurt, confused.  Angry, frustrated.  Not complicated at all, but too complicated for a simple label. A word that has to do with recognition of loss, gratitude, and joy for what was.  And a word for that feeling not quite of betrayal, but of hurt, injury, incomprehension “How could you? Did you really mean to? Didn’t that mean anything to you?”

I just don’t want happy memories tinged with this. I could tell myself it just wasn’t meant to be, and I’d be right. I could tell myself it was circumstances, I could tell myself it wasn’t perfect anyway, I could say I just need to focus on my career.

But I will tell you: It still hurts, and I am trying to let it go, but I don’t want to just forget.