We forgive and forget. At least I forgive and he forgets.
All I could think to do was love her. That's all a person can do.
Pain is fear, and I'm not afraid.
Maybe they would look at each other and feel some odd yearning, but neither of them would know why. They would want to stop, but they would be embarrassed, and neither would know what to say. They would go their separate ways. Who knew? Maybe that happened every day to people who'd once loved each other.
She was supposed to be putting her life together right now, and all she could seem to do was throw grenades at it.
But it was smell that carried memory.
Grief was like a newborn, and the first three months were hard as hell, but by six months you'd recognized defeat, shifted your life around, and made room for it.
Love yourself and your friends unconditionally .
What happened to me by myself felt partly dreamed, partly imagined, definitely shifted and warped by my own fears and wants. But who knows? Maybe there is more truth in how you feel than in what actually happens.
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