Futile Regret

Today I went to her. Why? Because the cup looked as good as new and hadn't broken. I took it as a good omen. But I didn't say what I'd gone to say. I had been insincere enough all these years. I didn't want to be any more insincere, so I said something else instead, which wasn't anything of importance. Not a single word of importance could I say. The mammoth preparations came to nought as I felt the mammoth insincerity and the farce with which my words would be laced. I was not insincere; I am not insincere, but above all I did not want to sound insincere to her, so I ended up by not asking. I just listened as she talked about someone else in whose place I would have liked to be.... Since I cannot be, I will not look back again. I will not complain about my loneliness anymore. Life has to go on, inspite of all its mistakes. Mine, as well as hers, though along different routes which will never intersect again.