The further you go, the more you have to be proud of. At the same time, in order to come a long way, you have to be behind to begin with. IN the end, though maybe it's not how you reach a place that matters. Just that you get there at all.

We laughed ourselves silly, taking back our shared past, gently, piece by piece.

I trailed off and he didn't push me to finish. I was finding that I liked that.

He wasn't what I'd thought he was; maybe he never had been. I wasn't what I'd thought I was, either.

Sometimes love can be an ugly thing.

After everything that happened, how could I miss him? But I did, I did.

The basic fact is that no, this isn't ideal. Very few things are. Sometimes, you have to manufacture your own history. Give fate a push,so to speak.