inevitable

I've lost sight of whether my writing is bringing me closer to letting you go, or if it's just strengthening the cords of my attachment to you and us. Maybe it doesn't matter either way. Maybe the place I'm going to end up is the same, and the way I get there is irrelevant (or at the very least, insignificant).

The inevitability of a life without you is pretty clear. The only thing standing between now and that is time.