We loved each other in the same difficult, unusable way where you took turns doing it, instead of ever managing to do it at the same time.

That's the brutality of a breakup, isn't it? The people leaving think they did everything possible, the people left behind think what is possible hasn't even been tested yet.

You can't finish the things you weren't supposed to start.

I couldn't help but wonder if that was what love was -- believing that someone was going to come through, in the end, and that it would still count

I'm not sure we get to choose when or where we find what we're looking for.

We loved each other in the same difficult, unusable way where you took turns doing it, instead of ever managing to do it at the same time.

Belief isn't supposed to make sense, at least not all the time. In that, it finds its power. It gets to creep up on you and carry you forward. Until you can carry yourself again.