I believe in memories
They look so, so pretty when I sleep
And when I wake up,
You look so pretty sleeping next to me
But there is not enough time,
And there is no, no song I could sing
And there is no combination of words I could say
But I will still tell you one thing
We’re better together.
There might not be mail today in the USA, but that didn’t stop The Postal Service from announcing their return (via The Postal Service is officially returning)
getting that ball yanked away from you at the last second yet again feels only marginally better than getting your teeth kicked in. and by marginally i’m measuring in planck lengths.
The hardest part about moving on is you can’t help but feel like you failed because of something that you could have controlled. We’re so good at telling people that there’s only so much we can do but when it comes to telling ourselves the same thing it sounds very hollow and trite. We’re hardest on ourselves because we’re built to think that there is such a thing as a happy ever after when deep down we know we’re just afraid of accepting the fact that people come and go and that no amount of wishing can change that. We always end up thinking “if only, if only,” because it’s harder to accept the “it isn’t meant to be.” “I should have called,” or “I should have tried harder” is immensely easier to swallow than “I believed, but I was wrong.”
