The only reality I can know is that which is inside my head.

The accelerated passage of time makes things seem so much bigger and feel so much heavier.

I wish we could go back and start over, but that’s not possible because our anxious monkey brains keep replaying the past.

How would I have rewritten our love story?

Is it truly the most painful loss, or does it just feel that way because it is so recent?

We are more similar than it might seem, we both blame me for everything.

He was always going to win; you were never mine to have. You were made of him, what chance did my love stand? Broken from birth by his hand, damn that sounds harsh. The worst sort of poetic justice. Maybe I should have treated you with the same indifference to your needs. Maybe you would have believed I loved you.