In the end, this is all it came down to,--
a frustrated, confused phone call and me in tears, knowing that the best friend I'll ever have (that I will ever want to have) is leaving me, extracting from me, mining out bits and pieces of my heart and head and my being --
what is left?
and
what more is there?
What is life, if nothing but a series of departures?
1 comment:
Sympathies, Goose. I know what you mean about life being a series of departures...
I would wish better for you.
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