The Final Act of a One-Man Show

At first, I didn't believe it. I always thought that if someone had truly cared for another, even if nothing came of it, there would still be some lingering affection, preventing such complete disgust. Later, I realized that feelings can't be compensated for with sentimentality. You're tired, that's all. You don't want it anymore, that's all. Saying anything more is superfluous.

So, I don't plan to bother you anymore.

It's ironic, really. After loving for so long, after all this commotion, in the end, it all felt like a one-man show. The play had all the joys and sorrows, but you probably never truly took it to heart. I cried my eyes out on stage, while you, in the audience, just found it noisy.

I admit defeat in this relationship.

Not because I don't love you anymore, but precisely because I loved for so long, loved so earnestly, that I finally understand that some people can't be forced. The more you try to get closer, the more pathetic you appear. The more I cherish it, the cheaper this deep affection seems. I wasn't always like this. I have my pride, and I don't bow down to everyone. But when I met you, my heart softened, my spirits lifted, and eventually, I wasn't even myself anymore.

I don't regret meeting you.

There are always some encounters in this world where, even knowing the ending is bad, there's still a touch of tenderness in retrospect. But tenderness is like the sheen on old silk—it looks like it's there, but it's long gone. My regret isn't that I loved the wrong person, but that I thought, with my sincerity, I could accompany you a little longer. Who knew that before the journey was over, you already found me a hindrance?

If my departure can make things easier for you, then I can only smile and let it go. When one is helpless, even letting go carries a hint of misfortune. I say nice things, like I'm being generous, but my heart still aches. But what can I do even if it hurts? One can't cry while clinging to someone's sleeve, begging, "Please don't go."

I just hope that when you think of me in the future, you won't only remember my mistakes.

Don't just remember how I troubled you, annoyed you, and upset you. Please, occasionally, remember that I also treated you sincerely. I also lowered myself for you, put aside my pride, carefully observed your expressions, tried to understand your thoughts, hoped you would be happy, and hoped you would turn back. Back then, I wasn't without grievances, but I couldn't bear to say them. Because liking someone is inherently a losing proposition; you may not say it, but you remember every single detail.

Actually, I haven't let go.

If I could let go, I wouldn't have endured this long. But I finally understand that some impulses must be suppressed, and some longings cannot be spoken. Speaking them out will only annoy you more. Since that's the case, it's better to be sensible and end it here. Let you go, and let myself go. Ultimately, I'm not as strong as I thought, but I'm not so weak that I'd continue to annoy you knowing you're tired of me.

After all, not every encounter has a happy ending.

Some people come into our lives only to teach us something. They teach us how to love someone with high hopes, and how to leave someone wounded. When we're young, we always think love is about possession; later we realize that unrequited love is the norm. So many stories begin with great excitement, but end with only a few sighs.

You probably don't know that before I met you, I was a very proud person. I rarely bowed my head, rarely admitted defeat, and even less rarely opened my heart to others. But for you, I did all of that. Now, I'm leaving your world wounded—not to ask for your pity. What I want is for you, at some point in the future, to suddenly remember that there was once someone who loved you so earnestly.

If one day you fall in love with someone the way I loved you, you'll understand that my hesitation, my humility, my repeated reluctance to let go—it wasn't because I was inherently base, but simply because I loved so deeply and couldn't bear to end things too soon.

Then you'll know that I wasn't without self-respect; I just gave it all to you.

You'll know how much I loved you, and how much I suffered.

Thank you for reading!