The world fell at our feet...

Isn't it funny how the memories you cherish before a breakup can become your worst enemies afterwards? The thoughts you loved to think about, the memories you wanted to hold up to the sun and view from every angle - it suddenly seems a lot safer to lock them in a box, far from the light of day. It's not an act of bitterness. It's an act of self-preservation. Because it's not always a bad idea to stay behind the window and look out at life instead, is it? It scares me how hard it is to remember life before you. I can't even make the comparisons anymore, because my memories of that time have all the depth of a photograph. It seems foolish to play games of better and worse. It's simply a matter of is and is no longer, and never will be again.