The first time it was premature. you made an impulsive decision that completely broke me and there was no way to come back from that. When I left you, it was because things had gone on far too long and I lost myself.
The second time I knew it was coming. We both did, but I refused to acknowledge it. I pretended it was a speck on the horizon that could be ignored for as long as possible until it was the day of and I realized how naive I was.
This time, you’re coming back. I may be reading into that too much, but there isn’t anything wrong with being minorly optimistic… is there?
I’m so ready to leave too, though. What happens when I’m the one to leave?