And I don’t think I’m over you just yet. How could I be? I had never felt so deeply. We were doomed from the start. When the sun rose and I saw you next to me, all I could think was “this is going to end badly”. And I was right, and months have passed but I still think of that night. We were drunk on lust and one too many shots of vodka. You tore my heart in two. But I’m starting to be okay with it. I’m starting to appreciate what you never could. I realise it now: how imperfect we were for each other. You don’t care who you hurt as long as you’re happy. And I would’ve loved you with everything I had. Because that’s the kind of person I am. I’m so much happier now. And your name doesn’t hurt as much. One day it won’t hurt at all.
AJS | the last thing I’ll ever write about you
“Aime-moi nue. Et quand je dis nue, je dis pure, je dis authentique. C'est-à-dire bancale et maladroite, inconstante et paradoxale. Aime-moi sans rien mettre de côté, sans fermer les yeux, jusqu'à voir au-delà de ce qui est beau. Aime-moi nue.”
— La Saveur Des Mots