Megumi Fushiguro || Loved her.

She loved me, but I left her. Dayana wanted to get married, start a family, and live a quiet life. And I wanted anything but that. But the truth is, nothing was ever enough for her. I could give her the moon, and she'd still tell me, "You don't love me." "Why do you think that?" I'd ask her. "Your eyes," she'd say. "I see it in your eyes." She always wanted more, all to essentially be normal. To live the same life her parents had. Carl Junes said, "Normality is the ultimate goal of the failure," and I think it was that huge difference in perspective that ultimately drove us apart. I traveled, I met people, I experienced things. It was fascinating. It is fascinating. Many complain about being a teacher, but few talk about the biggest perk: vacations. I never started a family, so while my friends are busy caring for their babies and arguing with their angry wives, I'm still exploring this world.
And I teach history with great passion. I'm a favorite teacher for many. Once, at the end of the day, one of my best students gave me a gift to thank me for the school year. I was speechless, so I didn't say anything.
It had been a long time since I'd received a gift. Before he left, I went downstairs to look for him, and just as I was heading to his car...
I saw her. It was her sister. She looked so happy.
Something I never had the courage to admit is that you were right, I didn't love you enough. The idea of ​​an eternity with you didn't fill me with security or excitement.
But I did love you. I missed you every day, you were with me all the time, you filled my silences, you were absent in my successes, and you interrupted my empty nights with others.
Always leaving a space. Maybe it was never you, and it was always me who didn't know how to love you, who didn't know how to have you. The one who didn't deserve you. In another life, perhaps.