And when love is over when the diner of love seems closed from the outside you want all those hours back along with anything you left at the lover’s house and maybe a couple of things which aren’t technically yours on the grounds that you wasted a portion of your life and those hours have all gone southside.
It was fun, but it's over now. This is how things go.
It's important in life to conclude things properly. Only then can you let go. Otherwise you are left with words you should have said but never did, and your heart is heavy with remorse.
And that's when I know it's over. As soon as you start thinking about the beginning, it's the end.
I remember the way we parted, The day and the way we met; You hoped we were both broken-hearted And knew we should both forget.
They're just memories now. Time to write them off.
Let them go, I tell myself. Say good-bye and forget them. I do my best, thinking of them one by one, releasing them like birds from the protective cages inside me, locking the doors against their return.
Closure isn't closure until someone's ready to close the door.
I don't want closure, I don't know what that means or why you would want it.
I get on with all my exes, so there's nothing I need to forget about. I don't know - life is shorter than it seems.
When you split from someone, it doesn't have to mean that you don't love them anymore, you realize that the period of that particular romance is over. One always has to get out before one gets kicked out.
In my experience victims are more concerned with helping their families understand that they are still connected to them. In some rare experiences information comes through that helps understand what happened.
Books have this function that help me to understand the work I've done, to wrap it up. Once it's done, fortunately, it doesn't mean there's closure.
When the remembering was done, the forgetting could begin.
Memory, so complete and clear or so evasive, has to be ended, has to be put aside, as if one were leaving a chapel and bringing the prayer to an end in one's head.