And life was too short to play chicken with something as important as the person you loved.
This was a very personal line, born of my own musings in my diary years ago. There was a person in my life who was very hot and cold, and I became more preoccupied with “winning” some sort of imaginary game against them than I was with either making the non-relationship work or letting it go. I spent all my energy on trying to make sure I wasn’t the person putting the most energy in (a total contradiction, in hindsight, but it made sense at the time). I was engaging in a game of chicken with this person, who was very much, by their own admission, engaging in the game right back at me—and it was a game we both lost because we did, in fact, run out of time in the end. Part of grief, I think, is the way it reframes your life, and what’s important. More time is never guaranteed.
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