Mid June

I was never more certain of the decisions I made in the present, but I have come to learn to regret them now that they lie in the past. Mistakes were made, harsh words, poor choice of words as well. I've died; born to die I am. However, I believe its worthless fighting the inevitable. It was bound to happen. You were destined to break apart, and I was destined to leave. "Parting is such sweet sorrow." Romeo, if you loved like I love her, actually if I love like you loved, could this just be another set back. It eats me alive knowing you're gone, but it tears me apart knowing I did it. I'm overly conflicted: emotionally, mentally, and somewhat physically. I'm finding the will to stay alive. Give me a reason, please.