I wish nothing but happiness for you. Happiness: When your eyes ache from the weight of unshed tears and your mouth sags from the effort of smiling, when the world goes on though you've stopped and you're left wondering where you are.
I'm happy. Aren't you? Some day, this too shall pass. Already, there is no anger. My wishes for you are passive observations, a cook surveying yet another chicken to be quartered. Some day, you'll be happy in the conventional sense. And yet - no matter how happy you are - I hope you always wonder if you could've been happier. If you would've been happier.
If. A burden more heavy than any happiness I could wish on you.
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