Everything that followed became lies after lies I tell myself and all the people around me.

I tell them to feel less cruel. I tell them so I don't have to know what really went wrong. I tell them so up until now, I don't even know what we are. I tell them so I can continue to avoid these feelings while they disappear�because there is nothing I detest more than being left hanging.

And so I pretend.

Yet even now, I am afraid I hadn't tried hard enough; hadn't fought hard enough. I am afraid I have turned my back against a door I didn't even try opening. But the thing is, I don't think I can ever find the door knob to.

Now I am standing by this door�too small for my heart, too big to pull open. I turn to walk away but I am never ready to forget. I hold on to something I never had.