Somewhere in middle age, without knowing or even wanting to,
a scar from an unresolved past relationship explains the "why" of their present life.
At first, it seems like they both share a common feeling:
"I'm content with my current life, but this isn't the whole story."
Looking deeper, when they speak with more honesty, they admit the courage to express that their life, while free of any real crisis or drama, still brings them to tears for no apparent reason.
They dare to say:
"I don't have any specific complaints about my current life, but it isn't all that fulfilling either."
And this time, even a proper goodbye doesn't seem to heal old wounds.
Trying to understand the past feels pointless, but what does a person have, if not the false hope of healing a heart broken by loss, and fooling themselves into believing it's possible?