I know what I did to you was so wrong, but at the time it also felt so necessary to my survival. I don't know if those two things can both be true, but that's how it was.

I've become to realize there's a world of difference between knowing something happened, even knowing why it happened, and believing it.

Letting go. Everyone talks about it like it's the easiest thing. Unfurl your fingers one by one until your hand is open.

Except even at the start, when we were in that can't-get-enough-of-you-phase, there was like some invisible wall between us. At first I tried to take it down, but it took so much effort to even make cracks. And then I got tired of trying. Then I justified it. This was just how adult relationships were, how love felt once you had a few battle scars.

Something given, something taken away. Does it always have to work like that?

I want to make her cry and then lick up the tears.

Sarcasm creates a chasm between yourself and others.