At the process of letting go, do you ever had this aching feeling? Like when someone stabbed you in the heart and you know that whether the decision of leaving the dagger as it is or pulling that dagger out, it’ll still hurt? And even when you know that pulling that dagger out is the only way to keep yourself alive, you’d still waste your time thinking about it anyway? You’d still waste your time, staring into space, wondering why it hurts, wondering why it was even there in the first place, wondering why it ended up like this, or wondering why it’s as if nothing had changed at all.
And whilst thinking about that, you suddenly remember that it was you who decided on whatever choice that led you to wherever you are now. It was you who knew the consequences, and regardless of the consequence, you still decide on this path because you knew that staying where you are, still deciding whether to anticipate the stab with a block or to just let yourself be vulnerable, doesn’t do you any good.
It’s like deciding to tell the person you love them. Telling that person you love them only happens when you can’t hide these feelings anymore, when you’ve had enough denying them over and over and over again just to have them appear right in front of you, when you know that pretending they don’t exist at all is a pain in the ass. And regardless of the consequences right in front of you, you had to do it because it hurts you. It kills you to see the one you love is oblivious to your feelings. It kills you to see the one you love is pining after another person, or other people. It kills you to see the one you love is staring lovingly at someone’s eyes while you can only stare at him from behind, while you can just dream or fantasize on the day he’ll ever “see” you. It kills you every second, every minute, every hour.
Knowing for the fact that he’ll never love you back you still had to do it because you had to set these feelings free. You now realized that you love him, and so now you have to let go. Let go of that selfishness, let go of that pain that kept you crying all night, let go of every single peace of memory that reminds you of him.
So why still think about whether to leave the dagger be or to pull the dagger out? What’s keeping you lying there on the ground like an idiot, wasting your precious time thinking about it when you know the right answer anyway? Was it because you love that feeling of loving someone? Was it because you still hope for the day for him to actually love you back? Maybe.. But there’s not much time left for you to live, and he’s not looking at you, looking at how much in a pitiful state you are right now. And you find yourself wondering once more, “What does he think of me after all this? After all I’ve said to him? Was telling him my feelings the right thing? Will I ever know the answers to my questions?” And so you placed your hand by the dagger, slowly pulling it out as you cry and wince at the pain of it. As the dagger was removed, you slowly get up and start walking, looking for the safest place to bandage your wound.
Maybe you should ask him once you’ve healed your wound.