I guess it's a hard thing to break down and accept, this understanding that one has burned that white picket fence and one story ranch home down. This septic knowledge that the woman who loved you is now, at this very moment probably snorting another line of fantastic yay. I'd like to think that I did well by her in the years since we first met. But I know I'd be wrong. The truth is, I'm too much of a broken child to understand love when it snaps it's fingers in front of my face. She trusted me, needed me, and I ran as far and hard as I could to get away from what we meant to eachother. I thought I was brave and strong, but I was just a coward in the end. I know, deep inside