Her

Dear Daylight,

         I'm not sure of anything anymore. I haven't gone to the meadow in a while. Nowadays I'm too tired to even leave the house. I know why he left and I know it was my fault. It was the truth, what I had said that night. It was the harsh, unbearable, inevitable truth. It was also true that I was distancing myself from him to make it easier on both of us. We were never flawless, neither of us were.  I made mistakes.  He mad mistakes. We forgave, we forgot so why can't we now?

                                    From a girl who askes too many questions