you spend months, years, (a year?), weeks, fortnights, minutes, innumerable seconds pining after someone. wanting them, missing them, needing them. feeling unworthy of them-because that's the story that was told. by him? by you? somewhere in all that passing of time you've forgotten. where to lay the blame? doesn't really matter, you suppose. not anymore, anyway. or did it ever?
and then one day you wake and the light has shifted. and the lens comes into focus. and you realize that all along--actually--it was he who was unworthy of you.
and god does that realization feel good.