The door closed, forever changing her perspective of love. Every touch, kiss, hug, laugh was suddenly meaningless. It didn't make sense. Her head spun and her knees threatened giving up. Hate? Not possible. She raised her fist to knock again, but couldn't do it. Heartbreak on repeat. She moved her left foot back and then her right. A whole step away. Two more. One more step and she'd be out of the light. Out of his life. Is that what he'd said? She couldn't comprehend recent events. It didn't make sense.

"Medication for the kids with no reason to live."

I can't begin to explain my reasoning.
There is none.
Method to my madness? Nope.
You're just not what I want.
But I'm in too deep to turn it around.
I've got to find my way out.
I've never lied about "I love you," more than I am now.
Or maybe I just can't yet.
I can't give love that I don't have.
But you've given me too much to take care of.
I'm trying.
Really, I am.
And that's why I'm still in this.
But everything's too familiar.
You are a cliché.
You're in love with the idea of love. Not me.
I can't see it being serious.
"Denial."
It's a possibility.
I know I can't love you like I loved him.
Not now, not ever.

I don't know what to do.

I've got nothing for you to gain.

I've been trying to talk myself out of "I want to die" and back into "I'm just glad I'm alive."
I can't convince myself none of it's a lie.
Your words are pretty, and laced with sincerity, but I can't believe you mean it.
I don't see that it's possible.
We're on opposite ends of the spectrum.
You want everyone to know,
but I'm not so sure.
This isn't what I expected.
Automatic bliss, like before, maybe.
No more worries,
frowns,
breakdowns.
So maybe this isn't it.
Maybe you're not what I need.
Maybe I need someone to explain it to me.