Really?

“It ends or it doesn’t. That’s what you say. That’s how you get through it. The tunnel, the night, the pain, the love. It ends or it doesn’t. If the sun never comes up, you find a way to live without it. If they don’t come back, you sleep in the middle of the bed, learn how to make enough coffee for yourself alone. Adapt. Adjust. It ends or it doesn’t. It ends or it doesn’t. We do not perish.”

“You tell me I’m worth remembering and I wonder if that’s true. After all I’d be lied to before, just like lovers seem to do. Someone had told me they loved me or looked at me like I hung the moon, but when it all came down to it, that never seemed to be the truth. They always left, found someone knew. So forgive me if at times, I find it hard to believe you.”

I can’t handle this,” he told her. But something in his expression screamed: “I can’t handle you.” And she thought then, that perhaps all relationships were just a case of who gave up first. And her pride couldn’t decide which was worse: giving up when you had promised them not to, or waking up to find that they had given up on you.”