You know things will never be the same. You know all this pining won’t get them back. Your longing will eventually wear out. You’ll give up. And to give up would mean to accept that it wasn’t meant to be, that it couldn’t be even if it was meant to be. That moment is when you know it really is over and there’s nothing sadder than that. You come out a changed person, whether or not you like it. They tell you you’ve come out of it stronger and you mistake your numbness for strength, because it helps you sleep at night. The chapter’s closed, and a little bit of you shall always be trapped inside, a little bit of you the world will soon make you forget.
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You’ll look back and belittle your own love by calling it ‘immature and stupid’. Years later, you’d still wonder what if? What if they returned only to find you gone? What if you held on for just a little longer? What if you didn’t let go? You’d never know the answer.
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