One day, someone will love me better than he did: more selflessly, less devastatingly, nearly effortlessly. And when he gives me things in tiny boxes, I will gladly wear those, too: one piece at a time, glittering memories strung together like stones on a wire, mapping the ever- unfolding journey of my little heart.
I was always a fairytale-chaser. I sought after the ideal relationship; the perfect-for-me guy who set my soul on fire and just “got” me; who treated me with the utmost compassion and respect and made me laugh till my stomach hurt and wanted to sign up for a life of unparalleled adventures with me, only me.
They say “good morning” to you, but it always sounds like good-bye; they haven’t learned the permanence of language, packing up their syllables like most-worn pairs of shoes and trying them on anew when the dawn breaks.