A day, not too far away, we would become strangers. Confused and happy that we didn't go along with the craving of companionship, to satisfy selfish immediate pleasures.
And then one day, fifteen years from now, we would spot each other, from near or far. Would we speak then? Will I be able to speak to you without generating a spark of desire and fantasy? Then I would remind myself of your shallowness, Of how you always caved.
You see, Happiness is a continuous pursuit, Not an event. And then, I will be relieved. And glad.