Love gets harder as you go, yes. But it also gets better.
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You carry this with you or you will, one day, carry this with you. Grief is a wound and none of us go unbruised.
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You do not know the weight of the things you carry until you are able to put them down.
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They are not daydreams and happy endings, but things to be cautious about, to take your time with. He told this to a friend, who shrugged. “You’re right,” she said, “but at some point, that decision is always a leap of faith.”
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there are pieces of my life scattered all over these places
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In the end there was, maybe, something to be said for the process of picking through your past to decide what to keep and what to leave behind.
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