There’s no room for con­fu­sion or regret. One can only thrust one­self for­ward, never look­ing back, never ques­tion­ing what was once said. To learn from these mis­takes is the only sav­ing grace. Busyness is sim­ply self-distraction, and to believe oth­er­wise is self-delusion.

So do you fuck him harder, to bury the love you once had, to drown the guilt with fer­vent voices? To con­vince your­self that it’s over, and that this is bet­ter anyway?

And do you try to love him more, because you can’t love me?