At 20, I was too idealistic and unable to express what I wanted, and at 40, I’m jaded and overly expressive.

At 20, I just wanted to love whoever gave me their time, whoever shared my values, and I spent the last twenty years of my life walking on the ashes of my integrity.

At 40, I realized I had seen life as a succession of opportunities for self-improvement… and now I wonder what good it was.

At 40, I’m admired for my independence, that independence that was imposed on me, because I wanted to be a sure thing, not an option. And so my independence became my solitude.

And now that my solitude is a certainty, I lent a sympathetic ear to a friend I hadn’t seen in 20 years.

As is compulsory for long-lost friends, we reminisced on our Paris nights, often wild, other times tranquil. We laughed at our insouciance and understood the pain that had bound us together.

We discovered each other anew, reconciled our values, and examined our choices: while one of us had built happiness now become fragile, the other had sought paradise…for later.

And then our late-night talks became swords, and I crumpled from the pain.

This trip down memory lane hurt. It allowed me a glimpse, for a few months, of what I had avoided, what I had missed out on, what I would never have.

I cried for the young woman I once was, that young woman who dreamt of unbreakable love, values, and loyalty. That young woman who was too busy remaking herself, who forgot her dreams in the arms of men who saw only a plaything, not a partner.

His words gave me strength. In his eyes, I was a warrior, a wise woman, kindness incarnate. As if to contrast me with his betrayer, I was intelligent, cultured, pretty, easygoing, and not without a sense of humor.

For months, I was a rock for him, a listening ear, embracing arms, a reassuring smile, and gentle eyes. I knew the price, but I ignored the warnings.

I finally realized that, even if I was the right person, I would never find the right place.

And I wondered about the meaning of life for those whose life has no meaning.

I saw how his selfishness echoed the cruelty of his situation, and I told him that my trust was more important than his inconsistency.

Selena, I was wrong to think that life could be unfair. And I often wondered if it was better to wait than to give up.

And I chose myself. I granted myself the kindness that I used to take the time to give away, just to make a difference.

Yours truly,

Audrey Lisquit