random poop

“She will miss you for a while- fill herself with nostalgia and wishing and wanting and hoping until it brims full over. She will walk to the top of a hill on a summer’s day and wish you were there. There will be moments where she can barely contain herself. There will be moments where she will only want your arms, and your laugh and your voice saying it’ll be okay. And in those moments she will feel as though her whole world was breaking apart and nothing would make it alright again. She will look for you in other eyes, green - or other mouths - or other bodies. But they’ll never quite be right. Because they’ll never quite be you. And then one day she will say to herself: “enough is enough”. And at first it’ll just be words. And she’ll still miss you. And she’ll still hurt. But - over time it’ll start to hurt less, until it stops hurting at all. And if, after all of that, you decide to walk back into her life - you ought to know that she won’t let you back in. And if you never come back - you ought to know that she won’t care.”

“That’s the thing about human life — there is no control group, no way to ever know how any of us would have turned out if any variables had been changed.”