If you didn't grow up like I did then you don't know, and if you don't know it's probably better you don't judge.

You try every trick in the book to keep her. You write her letters. You quote Neruda. You cancel your Facebook. You give her the passwords to all your e-mail accounts. Because you know in your lying cheater’s heart that sometimes a start is all we ever get.

Tell her that you love her hair, that you love her skin, her lips, because, in truth, you love them more than you love your own.

You whispered my full name and we fell asleep in each other's arms and I remember how the next morning you were gone, completely gone, and nothing in my bed or the house could have proven otherwise.

Love is the great test of the human. The human is tested by our ability to withstand love. Love is so difficult, it is so challenging, it demands of us that we wreck it with ourselves. It demands of us an honesty that few of us could sustain.

Of course we all know that's not how life works. The novel that is our life can end at any time. Sometimes even on page one.

I'm having so much trouble with writing. Maybe if I help other people, it'll be easier for me.