Isn’t it funny how the memories you cherish before a break up can become your worst enemies afterwards? The thoughts you loved to think about, the memories you wanted to hold up to the light and view from every angle - it suddenly seems a lot safer to lock them in a box, far from the light of day, and throw away the key.
And to the casual observer it looks like I have moved on since I go around wearing my little happy mask all day. I smile and laugh and carry on like my heart’s still in one piece, but beneath it all, I am dying.
All you need is hope and strength: hope that things will eventually get better, and strength to hold on until it does.
Sometimes, when you’re too close to someone, it’s hard to see who they really are.
I know now, after fifty years, that the finding/losing, forgetting/remembering, leaving/returning, never stops. The whole of life is about another chance, and while we are alive, till the very end, there is always another chance.