“He has to be dead to you. Dead. Incinerated, in this case. DEAD.”
(“There’s no way I’ll be able to do it alone, I’m telling you now, I can’t.”)
I know I can’t or maybe I know I won’t because the potential trust I longed for seemed to be right there within reach – but it was equally as reliable as the mind-numbing anguish that came hand-in-hand. I became a catalyst for my own self-destruction even after realizing through tried and true (and dutifully proven, repeatedly,) evidence that “it” would never change. Yet..
