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"The truth is, we are failures. Two years on, our readers barely remember where Damascus is, and the world instinctively describes what’s happening in Syria as “that mayhem,” because nobody understands anything about Syria—only blood, blood, blood."

As I stand on this street corner and watch these two roads meet, I suddenly feel at peace. Maybe it’s because at my feet lies the intersection of two distinct paths merging at a point of vulnerability. Maybe because it’s a reminder of you and me and the blissful bond we once shared. Without a care in the world your arms wrapped around me to shelter me in the cold. Two souls kept warm by each others company. Two hearts dancing in the rain playfully. Two minds with the same thing in mind. You want me to be yours, and I want you to be mine. I don’t know maybe I’m crazy. Maybe time has finally outplayed me. Maybe I stopped seeing beauty in the little things. Maybe I stopped appreciating the gift life brings. Maybe I’m in over my head. Or maybe I just missed the familiar contours of your body under the chalk white sheets of my bed. I don’t know maybe this is normal. Maybe I stopped being myself after you left. Maybe this is all a test. Maybe I failed and I couldn’t clean up the mess. Maybe that’s why the rain suddenly feels colder on my skin. Maybe that’s why when I try to apologize I don’t know where to begin or where to end. All these things I’ve typed up in my mind and I want to tell you. I just can’t bring myself to hit send. Maybe I’m fucked up and won’t admit it. Maybe I’m a coward. Seems like I’ve got all the time in the world. Maybe I should do something about it. I mean, every minute without you feels like an hour. Maybe I’m a fool for distancing myself from you. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t believe that I left you because for some reason I couldn’t accept that maybe, just maybe you would have loved me too.