“You assume everyone wants to be happy.”
He looks stunned, then confused. He furrows his brows and frowns as he stares at me, sizing me up. “Don’t they?” he asks after some time.
“I imagine most people do. Then again, I’m not most people. Am I?”
“I suppose not.” His eyes still look doubtful.
“My pain, my grief… it’s all I have. It’s all I am. Take it away, and there’s nothing left.”
He starts pacing around the room, but his eyes never leave me. “If you’d just let it go, you could move on! You could be happy!” His tone is desperate, pleading.
“That’s just it. I don’t want to be happy. I want to be me.”
I know I’ve exasperated him, but I can’t be bothered to care. I just want to cling to my misery. He can live in the future; I’ve already been claimed by the past.
“I won’t give up, you know.” He’s so determined to save me. It’s almost endearing.
“Didn’t think you would,” I turn and pause before going out the door, “You’re too hopeful for that.”