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Losing someone didn’t mean the end; it merely meant the beginning of the life you’d lead without them, the beginning of letting in the people you’d gain in their stead.
A tragic inheritance, seeing your mother’s flaws crop up within yourself and having the awareness to know it but no idea how to stop it.
Love shriveled and disappeared differently, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, but she realized now that it was the most brutal, the most painful, when it was abandoned.

