She didn't want to be reminded of her past or how different her present was from the future she'd taken for granted.

I was clinging to all that had been and, in an ideal world, all that we had hoped for. He, he wanted out.

Am I falling in love? She thought, is it safe to do so with this man? She thought, I don't need to answer.

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.

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.

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.