125 minutes. that was how long we had stayed connected for. i had almost decided not to pick up when he had called back.


this was timely, i feel. there had been some invisible disquiet for quite some time now—a strange sort of... soupy. weighed down, somewhat. unfinished. i had not thought it would even be obligatory after all this time but i suppose i now stand corrected. the weight has come off. i feel a lot more at peace now to figuratively draw my trademark line across the page signifying the end of an exercise. i can now, comfortably, leave this with 31 and saunter straight into 32, slate clean.


"what, is this the last ever conversation we will ever have?"


yes, i think so, was the reply from the voice in my head. out loud, though, i heard myself say: "well, if it will be, at least i would hope i could leave you with this."


i do not know why i had not been enough for him, why i could not. i do not believe that he would know the reason/s either. and all of it perhaps needed to happen to demonstrate my own personal growth because this is how i know now that i am not the same me i have always been—being rejected used to hurt like a bitch. it always felt like i was being discarded, every time it happened. it felt like abandonment. howbeit, now, every rejection almost floods me with relief because it proves that i was spared from a fate of depreciation. the only reason anybody lets go of something precious is when they fail to realise its true value and any time that occurs, the loss is simply not mine to bear.