It's hard to think about the end. Because there was no end, not really. We didn't argue or cheat or lie. It isn't as if I can spot the moments we began to split. Mornings drifting into days and weeks and months, so slowly we hardly identified it was happening at all. We just stopped loving each other. Forgetting how to hold and understand and admire. Slothful nights spent on the couch, and moments of missing you, and unanswered calls. Unanswered everything. Sometimes that's the hardest part of it all: not knowing why.
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Memoirs Of A Crying Darling
RandomShe always tried to write happy stories and think happy thoughts and to adumbrate the future that may or may not await her.
