These things...they are who you are. They brought you here. To this day. You didn't give me a chance to understand that ever the unattractive parts of you, the messy parts, were something I could accept.

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.

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.

Why does it take fear to move you? Why does it take chaos to make us understand exactly what we need to do?

Why could we say more to each other when it counted less?

It's harder to appreciate what you don't have to look hard to find.

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.