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We lost our inside jokes and our knowing glances, our special moments and our strongest promises, our courage and our secret. We lost the love and desire we shared.
“But I’m pretty sure people only do such a thing when they have some hope left.”
“And I knew I had to choose Portland, because if I couldn’t have you, then I could at least have a part of you.”
“Therapy doesn’t mean that you’re weak, you know. It means that you’re strong, and you should be proud that you made that decision. Just look at how much happier you seem.”
“Because when you really care about someone,” I tell him, “you want to make them feel better. That’s just what you do when you love someone.”
Life isn’t always about dealing with the bad stuff. Sometimes enjoying ourselves has to come first.
Maybe these past three years we’ve been fighting so hard to get everyone else to accept our relationship when the only two people who needed to accept it us was ourselves.
I was right to follow my heart, because sometimes, just sometimes, taking risks turns out to be worth it.
After all these years, after all of the hurdles we have had to overcome, we are finally happy. Things aren’t perfect. We’re still figuring everything out, still fixing our mistakes and making our changes, but the main thing is that we are trying. We have grown and we have learned, but most importantly, we have finally accepted ourselves. Finally, I think. Just finally.
