I haven’t been invited for the C holiday of life. He definitely had fun without me. I didn’t have anything from him. I didn’t even have his shadow. I wanted to close Facebook site forever in order not to see the pictures of his lovers, I wanted to through away his letters but didn’t, I wanted to erase his words from my memory, but they were still in my ears. Without all doubts, C still was disturbing to me, intriguing and enigmatic. My love was like an obsession: strong and unfair, without any hope for “love in return”, any moral support or encouragement. There was no hope for me. C had just got rid of me. Got rid off me like of the uncared, unnecessary thing. He had just left me, and that’s it.