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Will we work out? Can we sustain this? How could I possibly be with anyone else?
I need to figure out what went wrong, to sort through it so that we can find our way back to each other.
A thought crossed my mind: that we could have the things we wanted, just not together.
Damn
Our problem wasn’t us together, it was us in the world—a world that demanded we reconcile its reality with our romance.
But isn’t that part of love? Refusing to see the parts that are so dark, so grim, they would send you running? Or is it that you see them and love anyway?
“having a partner you can exist in the world with, not one who you need to tuck away with, makes life a lot easier.”
That’s the thing about life—these moments that define us emerge out of nothing. A missed call. A trip down the stairs. A car accident. They happen in a moment, a breath.
He wanted to make me happy, and I wanted him to be happy, and the two weren’t compatible.
How am I going to tell him there isn’t, that I can’t? That life isn’t like the movies we loved but something infinitely more complex?
He seemed to understand that there were no words to make it livable and didn’t bother trying.
