Copy of <3

This is the end. Does he know? I think he does. Do I know? I hope I do. This ache is never-ending but with every recurrence, it stings my chest less and sobers my mind more. The memory of the loss is now more palpable than the loss. You will never find a love like this again, and I say this not spitefully but with somber affirmation. We have aged me. I look at my infant self with kind old eyes and tell her: sweet child, you cannot make one person your dearest. Your being is not bound to a lover. You ironed the entirety of your life into a handkerchief. You shrunk all desires into what fit the spectacle. You sketched all your selves into one caricature of platitude and pleasure. You forgot to live. So here we are. We've run our course. This is the end, long behindhand. Do you know? I think you know. I worry he doesn't, but my biggest prick has become a blessing: I know I have lessened in his nostalgia to something so tiny that my leave will bring him no pain.