O cruel irony:

Had he been someone else, things might have been different.

Had he not been who he was, I would never have grown to know, let alone love, him.

If I hadn't loved him, I wouldn't have truly known what loving someone deeply feels like.

Now that I do know, I'm too stubbornly fixated to settle for what once would have been a LOT more than adequate. The fact that he himself wants nothing whatsoever to do with me makes this all the more irritating.

I also wouldn't have known the total and complete hell of loving someone _that_ much.

Now that I know how much it hurts, even more than I was afraid it would (and I was absolutely terrified), it's veryveryvery hard for me to consider a retry.

And solitude is still satisfying, but it lacks..no, doesn't lack...I don't know. Now that I've tasted the forbidden fruit, the Eden of solidtude just isn't exactly the same anymore.