a quiet life of handshakes
The only time in my life that I felt sure someone loved me as much as I did them, I broke up with that person because I stopped feeling it. I moved on and now I'm again faced with the familiar feeling of being the more attached one; probably only a few more weeks to find that elusive balance. I'm not sure which is worse -- feeling more or less. I turned 30 last week and I'm tired of shutting off, compartmentalizing.
I really should know better by now.
I really should know better by now.