I said I love you the first time in some cheap motel with zombie war scenes in the background.
I am the stuff romance is made of.
I I I I I I I I I I I I I I
I can’t think about leaving you without crying. I like to pretend it’s okay, and I’m okay.
I meet someone who makes me feel good about us, and I have to leave him. Story of my life right there. Short bouts of happiness.
Maybe that’s all I am entitled to have.
People tell me I’m pre-empting this ending. I know for a fact I am not. Sure I can pretend and make-believe there is a future here. How? I see no possibility.
I’m leaving. He’s leaving. Sure, maybe we can push it through for the next couple of months. But then what? It doesn’t even matter if I come back or not. He wouldn’t be here. And what would I do there. It’s not possible.
So when do I end it?



