There are words and there are feelings and somewhere between where the two meet is the truth

Josh had told me a long time ago that he had this theory that an entire relationship was based on what occurred over the course of the first five minutes you know each other. That everything that came after those first minutes was just details being filled in. Meaning: you already knew how deep the love was, how instinctually you felt about someone. What happened in their first five minutes? Time stopped.

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.

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

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.

We have to figure out how to let go, and forgive. This is our job.

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