Have you ever known something, though you didn’t really know, because no one had told you, you had no proof or evidence, but deep inside you knew?  

Then you’re given that confirmation, and suddenly you really know, and you’re taken a bit aback?  And in that emotion that comes from suddenly really knowing, you realize, maybe you didn’t want to know.  Which is silly, because you did know, you always knew, but maybe, a part of you just didn’t want to believe it was true.  You wanted a little hope, which you never had to begin with, so you really just wanted someone, anyone, to tell you that you were wrong, that you didn’t know, and that you were allowed to hope.

But now that you know, really know, you’re left with this odd kind of heartache.  It’s silly to be sad to now know something you always knew?  And how can you mourn a hope lost that you never had, you were only hoping someone would give you?

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