I’ll pick the good memories, okay? I’m not quite ready to talk about everything just yet, but the good moments, they were nice, and for a while, they made me feel happy.
It wasn’t my choice to love you but it was mine to leave. I don’t think the moon ever meant to be a satellite, kept in loving orbit, locked in hopeless inertia, destined to repeat the same pattern over and over—to meet in eclipse with the sun—only when the numbers allowed.
– Lang Leav