I’ve been thinking about self-deception lately and how often it disguises itself as hope. This prompted me to reflect on my relationship with my first boyfriend. When I learned that he had a fiancée, I continued hoping for a future that reality kept quietly contradicting.
One day, he told me he had got married but still wanted to see me. Again, I accepted fragments of attention as enough to sustain my hope.
There was a window upstairs that overlooked the bus stop. I always waited there for him to show up. Some evenings brought relief. Others ended in silence. The rhythm of anticipation followed by disappointment slowly became normal to me. Looking back, I realize I wasn’t only waiting for him, but for a sense of being chosen — for reassurance that what I hoped for was real.
Eventually, I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I finally left. When I left, I gave him a lighter because he never carried one for his cigarettes. Looking back, I think that gift said everything about me then — even while letting go, part of me still wanted to care for him.
In the end, I can see it now for what it was — self-deception, disguised as hope.
And that is all it feels like now: something I once lived through.
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Li, a raw and fiercely honest narrative. Recognizing the difference between true hope and self-deception takes immense clarity and maturity. The way you described waiting by the window (in our 2nd house) is so vivid, but the true beauty of this post is where you are today – looking back at it simply as something you lived through, without letting it hold you back anymore. Your sketch of letting go is poignant and says it all.
💕