I once thought I was the luckiest woman in the world, but later I realized that I was just the best option for him.
When the old friend returns, the best has no meaning, how can it be the only one?
I've turned myself into a joke.
(I wrote a short story before, but it doesn't feel very powerful when I read it now, so I'll leave it here for now.)
Intention: If you don't love me, please let it go.