Sometimes the weight of disappointment is crushing. I don’t understand why this feels so heartbreaking. Maybe I’m a drama queen. Or maybe I just haven’t felt that kind of excitement in a long time. It’s gone before it even started. I feel cheated – like I’m being denied the one thing everybody else can have. The weight of the disappointment feels like I’m trapped under a collapsed building. But nothing collapsed. The foundation was never layed. My hurt is not acceptable. I made the adult decision – it was mostly for selfish reasons. But in reality, I have no right to get between a woman and her man. I don’t want to hurt that woman – a complete stranger – the way I have been hurt. I also don’t believe I’d even be a consideration on his mind once she returns. When he chooses to abandon me without a care in the world, I’d be emotionally destroyed. I must preserve what little bit of me still exists. So disappointment now is better than death later. Selfish. Purely selfish motivations.