I am angry because the future I had planned out is no longer happening. The house I was going to buy, the gifts, the everything... it's no more.

I could still buy that house in two years, but now it'll just be my house. And that's a lonely, lonely idea.

And I know, I know that there will be another girl. There always is. There's six billion people out there. There's got to be another girl.

And so I know that the house I'm working toward will some day happen, with another girl, with a girl more amazing than I could even imagine right now.

Right now, though, I am angry. Those promises she made came to nothing. Those times when she woke from a bad dream because I left her... are just ironic.

I'm afraid of retreating to my old standby, of retreating to pining for that one girl. I'm afraid of not moving forward fast enough, far away from this apartment and this ex and this three year period of my life.

I'm afraid of staying angry every time I think about her. I'm afraid of being depressed imagining her with her next... whatever.

I'm afraid of hurting her and afraid of the urge I have to hurt her.

I know, within twenty or thirty years, when I start dating again, that this episode will be something else I tell another woman, something else for another woman to run her fingers through my hair and say "she was so stupid. She shouldn't have let you go."

I know they'll say it, and I'll believe it, and they'll leave. Woman after woman will leave. Until there's someone who does stick around.

I'm afraid of being too cynical. Too angry. Too nostalgic too tooo toooooooo.

There's a greatness in that last scene of Casablanca. Humphrey doesn't get the girl, but he walks away knowing that she will, eventually, be happy. And her happiness is what he cared most about. That selfless, deep love.

But he doesn't get the girl.