I was eating green mangoes while gazing into the vastness of the horizon. The sky was all kinds of warm colors: red, orange, yellow, purple. It didn't occur to me that this could be the beautiful goodbye I needed as a person who sacrificed and loved deeply despite the circumstances given until I laid down in my bed with emotions fiery as the setting sun I saw from afar.
Is love toxic when it is too much?
I can still remember how I felt content listening to the silences he made when he's too busy to talk to me. The days that seemed years of torture because he was too busy to ask me about my day. The petty arguments about unfulfilled promises, big or small, that turned into weeks of no communication.
Turns out, I loved a busy man. I was never a priority, only an option. It was a mental and emotional wreckage: being swayed by my heart because my mind as an opposite opinion about the man I believed to be mine.