I don’t even want to read books any more. I’ve developed a lack of attention and patience for them in the past few months.
I don’t remember what it felt like. It’s all daydreams. I wanted to leave, so I ran. We fought to figure out what it meant (turns out it was just great sex), so I walked away. Neither of us knew what we were doing, so we fucked everything up. You wanted me in your life, just not like that. They all ended the same way. I was never going to be there long.