After two solid weeks of waking up in Damen's bed, wrapped in Damen's arms, you'd think I'd have grown used to it by now. But nope. Not even close. Though I could get used to it. I'd like to get used to it.
And now I'm right back where I started. Sober and miserable.
I’m always thinking about what I’m missing. Even when I’m happy with what I have.
The weird thing about saying good-bye is that it never gets easier.
Family dinner. Seven-thirty sharp. Tie optional. Straight-jacker required.
The only reason I lost, the only reason I failed to get what I want, is because the monster is me, there's no difference between us. It makes all the moves, calls all the shots, while I'm just along for the ride, with no idea how to pull the brakes or get off.