When did I stop being me?
I just can't. I'm married. I made my bed and now I have to lie in it.
Being the survivor stinks.
It's as though I've been sleepwalking and suddenly woken to find myself here
Life goes on with fragile normalcy.
Although there are times I'd give anything to have her back, I'm glad she went first. Losing her was like being cleft down the middle. It was the moment it all ended for me, and I wouldn't have wanted her to go through that.