Sometimes an intense longing hits me like a wave, and I gasp for breath drowned in the tsunami of memories and the emptiness of loss.

“You don’t ever really let go, though. You don’t stop. You don’t stop hurting, you don’t stop loving. It doesn’t go away, you just keep living and eventually things get pushed into the background of your life so it’s not consuming you every day. And then one day you know you’re okay. It still hurts, you still miss that person. And yeah, you forget the details. The way she smelled, the way her mouth tasted, how her skin felt, the sound of her voice. It’s almost like a different life, a different person that loved her, was with her. But on a day-to-day level, you know you’re okay. Sort of.”

I’m not doing it to hurt you, I’m doing it to forget you.

“We almost made it. I almost called you “mine,” and you almost called me “yours.” I think we almost loved each-other. But the only thing I was sure about is that almost wasn’t good enough.”

“I have letters that I have not sent to you because I fear what you may think of my real thoughts. I write these first because I try to contain my emotions in hope the words do not stumble upon your sweet lips, but instead remain silenced through the aches of my heart.”

“What a sad way to know somebody; a love that could have happened, but never did.”

“Something tells me I’m going to love you forever.”

“Nothing ever happens like you imagine it will.”