Our Story Is Over, But I Love the Shape You Left Me In

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For a long time, our future was flexible, unlimited. I wasn’t sure who you’d be to me or who I’d be to you. Not ultimately. I knew I loved you with all I had. I loved you so much that I even grew a bit to try to get you to love me in return.

The funny thing, looking back, is that it’s obvious to everyone else that you adored me. But I never got that memo, did I? And so I kept growing and growing, trying to impress you. Because if only I could impress you enough, then something would snap into place. I thought that would be the moment when you started to love me.

In reality, it would be the moment when I could actually understand that you did.

And now our story is over. You’re gone. It wasn’t your choice to leave. Your time on Earth was up. It happens to all of us. I’d say it happens to the best of us — which is true — but it also happens to the worst of us and to the rest of us who are in between.

So now the ending is written, whether I like it or not. I do not like that it’s over — but I love how it went.

We are set in stone now. It had to happen; it was always a matter of time. It’s just like pottery. There’s a point where clay stops being elastic. It firms up. It makes up its damn mind. Especially once you fire it. Once you fire it, it becomes stone.

And that’s where it is with you, too. Our story is over. We are what we are going to be. The clay has made up its mind. We are set in stone.

Luckily, I love the shape you left me in.

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