Happy birthday to me.
Even after knowing and reminiscing all that has been said, the stabbing pain in your heart hasn’t diminished whenever you see him fooling around with other women who apparently make everything more “comfortable” by loving him less or not at all (but hey, at least you’re going out, which you refused with me, so thumbs up!1!). Or like the explanation for it went: “There are different degrees in love.” Right. I call it being afraid of love and running away from responsibilities and people who genuinly (and not conveniently) care. Like living inside your own game where you can create a new character each time you feel like it, or switch to a new server, and get the thrill of a new adventure all over again, instead of having to maintain what you had built up. Or let me put it in ARK-nerdspeak: being around grinders and stone-fetchers and working on your base rapidly gets too boring so without consulting first you go about as you please and restart on a new server yet again because then you don’t have to fix the mess you made on the previous one.
Maybe that ARK miniature I gave you (perhaps you don’t even remember you have it, or maybe you already threw it out) was a then-unknown symbol for our doomed relationship. It arrived too late, was too small, you didn’t seem happy to have it and it’s a bird about to fly off. *laughs*
I do wonder if you ever respawned and after awhile realized you regretted erasing the previous game. But to each their own. Moon, stars, you know my quote.
Besides, more love to give to the next one who’s gonna break my heart, right?
Captain Mirks, or simply “Shim” when your flame diminished, you were my safe haven, with your apartment as my favourite ship, but its fickle storms have damaged me too much. Maybe one day I’ll happily return as an ally, but for now the waves are still too high. Until we meet again at the shoreline.