That's the beauty about love. It's not about give-and-take - it's about feeling safe in one's needs - wanting to be looked after as much as wanting to look after.

It's not a persons mistakes which define them - it's the way they make amends.

how can he love me then not? He went,he ran. And I cannot bring him back. Yet I left the door metaphorically wide open, hoping he'd come back and bang on it proclaiming, "I want to be here with you. Always." Soon I'm going to have to shutit. For my safety and my sanity. Let go. I don't want to. Won't letting go be just that - letting go? Giving up? Admitting failure? Admitting that it is really, truly over?

His version of 'real' love isn't sufficient for me, I don't think anyone should settle for so little. It wasn't love - not in the true sense. On my part, it was neediness, insecurity, dependence, habit - desperate to feel loved by a man who was often ambivalent towards me.

Tell me that you refuse to allow me to be so stupid. Tell me that you will not tolerate this relationship being over just when it was on the verge of really taking off.

She liked him. She liked the feeling of liking him. She felt light and smiley and too full of excitement to think of anything else.

It's just the world seems a very spacious place without him.