It’s been ages since he last heard his laugh, let alone genuinely laughed himself. That can’t be healthy for your mental state. Not being able to remember the last time you really laughed, what it feels like. Some kind of psychological damage has to come with that. He’s sure he can’t manage a laugh now even if he tries. If that’s not a damaged person, or at least a very sad one, he’s unsure what is. He doesn’t want to begin to imagine what else a damaged person could be. The only example he can think of is himself.

Who else is as broken as he is? Who else can possibly fathom the sadness eating away at his delicate heart? Can no one sympathize with him? Is he doomed to endure the weight of their broken relationship alone, without even the other participant to share the burden?

Maybe he’s just destined to be alone.

No other explanation can justify the stillness of their once imperishable relationship.

There’s no way a blissfully happy and content couple such as them could just disconnect like a faulty line. Some greater force has to have planned this. Their drifting apart, silent indifference, unfamiliar presences, is just one part of a larger plan.

A plan that isolates him from the one he loves.

Isn’t there another way? Isn’t there anything he can do to redirect their split paths?

Why can’t returning fallen petals make a flower bloom again?

Bits and pieces of their past spiral through his mind in a chaotic whirlwind of dead emotions, petals from their wilting flower. Remembering them won’t bring the life back to their relationship. Their flower is decaying at its roots.

There’s no cure.

No remedy.

No second option.

Just accepting their time has come to an end.

A bitter and tragic end to never be continued after the thread is permanently cut.

The thread that can hold on no longer, severed.