You were expectantly looking at me to wither and die from the flames of bridges that you burnt. You were not wrong. I died. I did. An interesting kind of death. A million different virtues of me alight, burnt to ashes - my insecurities, my doubts, my fears, my inability to believe in myself, my pride; everything died. And for that I thank you, for igniting the flame which ultimately lit the path of my self-discovery. However, the problem which remains with you is that you consider deaths to be some kind of sorrowful end, but my dear you forget that deaths also stand for resurrections.