I’ll fight for you, but I will not compete for you. There’s a difference.
I miss how you wanted me.
I hate distance. You meet the best people and they are always far away.
You’re in a relationship and you know it’s not right and you just think, “It’s too late, we’ve been together too long. Oh, we’re living together; how would I get another apartment? Oh, we got engaged; how could I break it off? Oh, the invitations have been mailed.” And the fact is, there comes a day when you gotta go. And you go and you look back and you think, “It would’ve been so much kinder if I had gone when I knew I was supposed to go instead of lying to myself and thinking it might work out and staying too long.”
When I look back, it was the people I cared about most deeply that ended up hurting me the most. Makes me wonder, though. Is it really because they gave me greater scars? Or did I inflict the pain upon myself by naively expecting that they, of all people, wouldn’t ever be bad to me?