I think theres a certain kind of love in growing to hate one another. We spent so many nights in quiet politeness, at first wanting to impress one another, kissing silently in the rain, laughing over the others mistakes, to silent clenching of jaws over the others faults to quiet desperation in the middle of the night. Even in the end, we went out with a whimper. It’s so funny because everyone said how perfect we were for one another, I still believe it. But even perfection can be wiped out in silence. It takes one silent drop of water to dissolve a mighty boulder. But after that in the quiet world, we made sound, heartbreaking mean sound, and it was loud, it was made of all the sound we’d missed before and it was ugly. I half expected us to bust out laughing afterwards because I do so adore you but you’ll never know. So there’s just the sweet sadness of being mad as hell at you and about you.