I assumed love the second time around would be better. Or the third…hell, I thought everything was going to be better.

Sad realization seeps in that maybe I am going to be alone for a very long time, that maybe I am not for another.

I thought I met someone who supported me.

Understood me.

Both chasing dreams.

He never once discouraged me.

Or said stop.

Yet, it’s this very reason why he just left me.

This very reason I am trying to work but have to articulate a couple of sentences to mark the date.

To add to the rest of stories that I hold.

That’s all we are right?

Just stories.



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