I suppose, stereotypically, one should feel angry, hurt, distraught, sad, depressed, emo, etc. and moreso, if one has/had no idea. Alas, I knew. And I have never prayed so hard for anything as I did about my knowledge. I pretty much begged every god I've ever encountered in text, on TV or in conversation.
I begged to be wrong, more wrong than I've ever been or will be about any topic.
I pleaded, bargained and demanded that I be corrected or, at the very least, not know the outcome either way. I cried for a swine's satisfaction.
A heathen's pleas often fail to inspire the divine. (The sacred version reads: God works in mysterious ways.)
Granted, even though I knew the outcome, the only end (to this particular situation), I was never ready to see it. I definitely cry more than a stereotypical male, and I already asked myself why I was crying. It's not as if I'm at an end. It's not as if someone died. Everyone is still here, the same. Everyone, for all practical purposes, still exists.
The "what now" aspect of this situation still makes me cringe. I suppose we could use that time machine and stop this situation from occurring. That would be the easiest method.
I am still semi-confused. You can help me with that later, when I have confidence again.