I thought so. No, it had to be that way. I thought you were dead, and in my mind, you had to be dead. Your death—your absence—had to be the only thing keeping us apart. If not, I wouldn't have been able to endure it. I don't think I could have lived. I couldn't spend every single day starving for you, scraping together every tiny trace of you just to prolong my life by a handful. That would make me too pathetic. I don't do stupid, childish things like wishing for the unreachable anymore. I don't even hope for ridiculous, shitty things like believing you'll come back or that my life will become happy.

Right. I was pushing through, living my life while comforting myself like that, so why did you show up in front of me? You said it yourself. You told me with your own mouth that we shouldn't see each other anymore, that I should live well without you.

...You shouldn't be doing this to me.