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

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

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.

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

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

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.

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?