thus, all those said&done's are actually unexpressed&unresolved's.
thus, the disappearance of my libido at the mention of his happiness is anything but the assumed coincidence.

my heart is a hotel; my love the presidential suite. a suite still vacant long since he checked out... most likely due to its exorbitant price. and though there are many other rooms and enough guests to keep the business running as usual, ultimately, the money lost on that damned vacancy will be the hotel's demise.

surely a grand[iose] gesture could turn things about! but no... my life is not a chickflickish film, or even if it were... i am not the protagonist; i am not the beneficiary.

a music-swelling, tear-producing, stomach-knotting gesture? no... NO. cos he is happy. and so should he remain. for i am unabashedly sincere when i say that his happiness means everything to me. [[and extremely disconcerted in admitting that such should[a]/could[a]/would[a] be[en] contingent upon me.]]

epiphany hurts. like i said: an UNSOLICITED PANG of consciousness. one year and seven months of denial...
but i was happy [well, relatively-so] in denial. so, back to it i will go. and when/if/should this resurface in one, two, three, or seven years' time, perhaps i will take a more proactive course of action.

'tis a bridge to cross when i get to it.
cos as it stands now, 'tis a bridge burned and collapsed. babies and dirty bathwaters rushing over its remains.