I write great letters but give lousy speeches.

( a fairy tale )

Jack.

Jack Jack Jack Jack Jack.

Jack.

Just, Jack.

I used to think love meant forever, but I know better now. I can't offer anyone forever. Even if I offer someone the rest of my life, who knows how long that will be. Or won't be.

I hate feeling torn in two. I hate John thinking I'm only biding my time.

I hate knowing he's right.

I've started thinking about our future. I catch myself thinking about things like what we'll do for Christmas and if he's the type to celebrate anniversaries. (Lisa liked anniversaries. I liked them for her sake ( Read more... )

I think it's too much to say we're "together." But we are . . . something.

One of these days I should tell him when I go into the bar, he's the person I hope to see.

We both knew I'd never stay away, I think. Where would I go, what would I do? Even if I never remembered, I'd still feel the loss.

And he's used to me now. I think we'd miss each other just as much.

I don't regret Sam or John or any of it. We all have to find our own ways of grieving.