We all want to be over with it—the misery of being abandoned by the one we love. We want to be over with it right at the moment our lover turns into a stranger. We do not want to endure it even if it were to last a few seconds. It is heart wrenching, the pain, like someone has been trained to pluck out every muscle in your heart slowly and purposefully. Nobody wants to deal with that sort of cruetly. But we bring it on ourselves the moment we choose to let someone in our lives and allow the mistake of letting them stay. We never fully understand or want to accept that we do not control the longetivity of their stay. After all, we have stopped commanding control over our own heart. Like every sun that sets, when the time arrives they leave. We try to stop them, we curse, we spit, we bang on their closed doors, but nothing will change their mind. We revisit memories, places, books, music, food, anything that reminds us of them. We struggle to keep the person alive in whatever way we know possible. But just like people, the memory of them also begins to fade. We move on, find new love, people, places, books, music, food, anything new that is full of promise. But we remain a little broken, carrying with us the mark of having once loved. And there is never anything that we can do about it.