There is something comforting about heartache. Because although you never felt more alone, and suddenly everything is colourless, and meaningless, and it feels like everything you've worked for has come crashing down, with it comes a sort of clarity. Although you don't really want a tomorrow, there is a feeling buried deep inside you that tells you that after all, you'll be okay. Because you're alive, and you know you'll survive it, even if you don't want to. I'm sorry that this is the way things happened, and I'm sorry that it's all my fault, but I can't be sorry to move on. In a weird sense I miss you. I wish I could want you, and I wish you could want me, but I know that it's gone, that sparkle, the inexplicable silence between us that said everything we wanted. I know that you aren't thinking about this, that it's only me who looks for explanations, and in a way that hurts, but I can accept that, the way the world works. The ideal thursday turned into the night Paris went dark. I'll find a way to be okay again.