when i was younger, it always bugged me
how you can love someone and than - not.
where do you go from there? where your heart goes?
where all those attachments, connections, energy go?

Oliver used to tell me that love itself is exaggerated.
there is no love. what is love? heart pounding, vows?
words? you can not exactly define what you love, girl.

but i understand him now. i died, thus he resuscitated.
and it was so freaking painful as if the world burnt down.
okay.

i might have loved someone.
i might have wanted to see something that was never there.
i might have had hopes, i might have reaching for the best.

but now i do not do damn forgiving.
because there are no two thousand chances to cash out.
because you fuck up every damn time you come out alive.

i mean, night.
i met my husband in a bar, when i was nineteen. it was bad.
we used to gang through all the downtown streets back then.
we used to live together, we used to be parted, we used to break.
i spent millions on salons, but those scars from lost battles won`t go away.
that one all across my hand. but i can forgive it, the hell i do.

even at our worst, we were always connected.
the same circles, the same places, the same nights.
later, at our own bar which i successfully sold away this spring.

i mean, what this was?
even if there was something, there is nothing to salvage anymore.
they wrote legends about this story, but honestly guys. thus none.
i would not spend another day trying to reflex the crap out of it at all.
how much it damaged me, how much it made me stronger. ruthless.

i do not feel nothing at all.
but i am devoted as hell.
sounds good enough for me, nah?