You seem so content with the circumstances in which life has arbitrarily placed you, and I look upon the features of your situation with only fervent envy. I fear that the base jealousy of man has gotten the better of me, for I now think of nothing but how I wish I could spend a day in the sparkly heels with the neatly done bowties that happen to have fallen in somebody else's spacious walk-in closet.

I have been abandoned by your capricious fingers, which have since stumbled upon a finer dame. I truly wish I had the morality to put your happiness before my unfair greed, but the good-natured congratulations I express to you are only a facade. I presently seethe in the dark corners of my mind, never to reveal my true sentiments because I do not wish to trouble you more than I already have. But I ask of you, is it necessary to blatantly flaunt to the world all your luxuries and fortunes? Forgive me my bias and sensitivity, but I do not wish to be reminded of the events that have happened between us, the opportunities I missed, and the inadequacies of my past self. The thought of you enjoying the company of somebody else triggers the realization that if it weren't for my mistakes, the latter person could have been me.

It is my fault. My damned overidealization, catalyzing the formation of dreams that at once dissipate when exposed to the suffocating nature of reality. My damned impulsivity, making the pursuer appear a stumbling, desperate fool drunk on the lying liquor of hope. My damned limerence, suggesting a reciprocation that was not actually there. I have misrepresented the truth, convinced that it was all taken care of and that it did not need working on.

And then the curtains fall, thick purple velvet rushing to meet the cold ground as an unpleasantly stark figure stands, lonesome on the stage, and every realization hits with unbearable force. I suppose one could put the curtains back on, but the sight of the bare truth has already corrupted the unrealistic aspirations, and the second deception of the self is never as foolproof as the first. It is here that the self-lies must be relinquished and the dissonance resolved, but it is not an easy transition.

So please, take the liberty to revel in your newfound joys while I turn my back to spare myself. We must part at this treacherous fork, and it will be for the better.

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