You, Again

by Kate Goldbeck

“You know, every night,” she says, “I lie here by myself and think, ‘Tomorrow is the day I’ll wake up and feel okay about this.’ There has to be a tipping point, right? Do you ever feel like you’re living a depressing ending, but you never get to the last page? There’s no pithy final line? It just keeps going.”

It hurts more to fill the cavity than to leave it empty.

Maybe being in love is knowing that you’d live it all over again—every part, suffering included—to get right back to the place where you’re standing.

Maybe there’s no such thing as soulmates. Maybe there are only people who trust each other enough to begin something without being assured of the end.