Departure.

"What will you do?"
"Nothing. Cry, maybe. Swallow my grief. Stare at the void until my eyes hurt. Smell the flowers and pretend it's the scent of her skin. Dream of her. Of another fate. Of a happier life."
"Do you want to see her again?"
"I always want to see her. But she doesn't. It will make her uncomfortable. So, I don't know if that would be wise, to begin with."
"Don't think of how it will make her feel. Think of yourself."
"I am thinking of myself. Do you think that I will feel good if I see her?"
"Won't you?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because seeing her and knowing that she doesn't want me to touch her is suffocating. Knowing that she doesn't want to kiss me or that she cannot look at me the way I look at her. Looking at the woman you love that doesn't love you back is painful. And I cannot have any more pain than I already do."
"You feel so much for someone you hardly know."
"Imagine if I did know her more. My heart would explode of wonder, beauty, magic, love. I would have done everything to make her happy. I would have given her myself. I would kiss her when she cried and hold her hand when she felt lonely. I would have remained silent when she would want me to. I would have caressed her hair when we made love. I would have done so many little, insignificant things."
"These things are not little or insignificant."
"They are to her. Everything is not important when it doesn't come from the one you want."
"How are you so sure that she has no interest in you?"
"I am not sure. But it can't be otherwise. It's obvious."
"You're a pessimist."
"I might be. But I'm a realist, too. I've grown a pessimistic attitude about us because I was realistic first. I just wish I could leave."
"Leave? Where to?"
"I don't know. I just want to close my eyes, inhale deeply and leave. I need to be alone. More than ever. This void.. this empty space I have in me is so wide, it feels like it's infinite. The more I love her, the bigger this emptiness gets. The more I give, the less I take. I should leave. I failed her. I failed me. I wasn't good enough."
"If you aren't good enough then who is?"
"The one who's indulging in her kisses."
"She's with someone else?"
"I think so. See, it was always going to be over between us. It's like a flower trying to flourish in frozen earth or survive without water. She is the flower but I never was the soil through which she'd live. She turned me down from the start. I was never going to be good enough for her."
"All that I can deduce from this is that it's not that you failed her or that you weren't good enough. It's that she's a coward."
"Yes, she is a coward. But if I were more then she would have probably gotten over this. But I wasn't more. I was always less."
"You are too harsh to yourself."
"Hard times require harsh measures. My dreams are to blame."
"Your dreams make you who you are."
"That's true. They make you miserable, insufficient, small, unworthy, undeserving, dead. That's who I am, currently."
"You are making this worse. It cannot be that bad."
"Unrequited love is always bad."
"You have all the time in the world to love again."
"I know I have time. Time to dream, to do things, to love, as you say. But I love her. When you love someone, nothing else matters but the here, the now, the present. And the future of your love. To love is to burn. I feel like I'm in hell, rotting in a cauldron of fire. I feel like I'm turned to ash. I am the remains of my love. I am sorry for exuding such sadness. But I am sadness. I am stripped off everything but my passion. My pores are open and yearning for the more that I cannot have. My heart is just an organ, my soul is a myth. My body is an object, my mind is numb. My life is who she is. I am she. Therefore, I must leave. I must give up."
"Don't. Don't give up."
"I will lose myself if I don't. I was willing to lose myself into and with her. But not without her. It's over."
"Shall I wish you good luck?"
"There is no such thing as luck. You get what you deserve, what you fight for, what it is meant to be yours. You get the one that wants to be yours. I am hers, she is someone else's. That's enough for me to step back and let her be. There is no space for selfishness or stubbornness. Letting go is being free, isn't that what they say?"
"Yes, but-"
"So long, my friend. I am drifting off to another world where love is painless, harmless, of no matter. I need to live in a world where love is not an embodiment but an idea, a feeling, something unfathomable, intangible, unreachable yet ever-sweet and heartwarming. Farewell, dear friend. Farewell."

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