So This Is How It Ends.

One can only hold on to hope for so long. Hope for things to get better, hope for things to progress, hope for reciprocation, hope for the future, whatever. One can hope and dream that maybe, just maybe, things will work out. One hopes, and holds on to that hope till the questions are answered and one finds out whether or not it's the answer one was hoping for.

It's like an incredibly long hand of Texas poker - huge, repetitious, arduous and stretched out bets that take forever before the next card is turned, and all you've got is a Jack high. Not big enough to warrant such a risky bet, but enough to make you at least think you have a fighting chance. But it's a risk. A huge risk and the only outcome in this game is to either win the entire pot or lose everything.

The river card was finally dealt tonight and before it turned I had a hundred and one opportunities to fold and I didn't. I didn't because it felt good. I didn't because I really wanted to win that pot. I didn't even though I knew all the odds were against me because I'd rather take that chance, no matter how slight, than risk never making the bet in the first place.

The river card was dealt, and I was left with what I'd started with - Jack.

I'd played this game before and though the bets were bigger then and the chances of winning were at least a little bit higher I wasn't playing the cards I was dealt with right. Not one bit. And I had some good cards at the best of times. But I raised when I should've folded and folded when I should've stayed in. I never went all in like I did this time, just slowly lost my chips and left confused and upset, wondering how I could've played those hands so stupidly.

This time I only had enough for one bet. One big bet. So I went all in. And whilst the turning of each card took forever and the rest of the players took their time to keep on raising I sat there and waited with my Jack high. I only had one chance and I only had one bet and I went all in on the same game I'd lost before for being reckless.

Some would say I hadn't learnt my lesson from the last game. Many would question my actions, pointing out it's a big risk. But here's the thing - I had learnt my lesson from the last game, in a way that only life knows how to teach you. Yes, it was a big risk. A huge risk, with just a Jack of Hearts as my highest card, not much to bet with but going all in anyway. But this time it was a risk I was willing to take and went all in knowing full well the consequences of losing the hand. This wasn't like last time, when I had no idea how much I was actually losing till the chips were all gone. This was, in retrospect, relatively simple:

This is the hand life has dealt me. It's not much, but I'm not folding.

And I lost. I lost big time. I found myself at the table with my Jack of Hearts and watching all my chips disappear. And though I lost the hand in a move that I had never calculated nor foreseen would happen, I knew there was the risk of losing it all.

I went all in and I lost. And it's very upsetting. It hurts deeply. It fills me with sadness and rage and loss and pain... but unlike last time, I am not filled with regret.

I had lost before. Lost in a way that would keep any ordinary person as far from that table as possible. But I picked myself up, slowly garnered as many chips as I could, straightened my tie, sat on that same table and ante'd up again. I knew the risks involved. I knew there was a chance of losing, especially with just a Jack of Hearts, but I ante'd up when others wouldn't have even stepped back up and I went all in because I knew that if I didn't I would have spent the rest of my life regretting it. I would have spent the rest of my days wondering "what if", no matter how much better my life could have been if I didn't go back to that same table and played the same game.

I went back to that table because it was worth it, regardless of what anyone else says. It was worth it. And if I had won I would have been the happiest man alive and I don't regret for one second taking that chance to be that man.

Like I said, it hurts. I wish it didn't. I wish that, with all the knowledge I had and the lessons learnt from the last game that it wouldn't hurt, but it does. But it hurts more to regret not taking that chance. To be bombarded with thoughts of what the outcome could've been.

The table's now closed, and I don't know if it'll open up again. If it does and I've got enough chips and the mood and circumstance is right, I may take that chance once again. Because it's worth it, even if the dealer doesn't think so.

I went all in with a Jack of Hearts and lost. And this is how it ends.