It is one thing to make a choice and it is another thing to never have the chance.
Growing apart doesn't change the fact that for a long time we grew side by side; our roots will always be tangled. I'm glad for that.
Does loving someone mean you want them to be safe? Or that you want them to be able to choose?
Why are some things easier to write than say?
We could have been happy. I know that, and it is perhaps the hardest thing to know.
I wonder if I will ever have the strength to hold onto something. Or if I will always be someone who destroys.