At this time, my heart was filled with despair.
A very good friend of yours was determined to die. You looked at him, but couldn’t stop him. There was a layer between you and him that couldn’t be penetrated by any tool. You could touch this thing in any way, but you couldn’t find a gap to break through it.
“Because when you love someone, you don’t love them for their good personality traits and actions. You love them because you love them, with all their flaws and ridiculous insecurities.”
Sometimes love isn’t pretty. It’s not neat, and it’s not textbook perfect. There’s no template for love. Sometimes it’s dirty. Sometimes it’s a bit creepy. And sometimes it hurts.