They say everything ends well, if it's not well then it's not the end.
Personaly, I disagree with the statement and I can go on for a whole hour how that isn't true or at least not applicable in my life.
Sometimes I feel strange when I use the word "my life". Am just 17 years old and I've got a long way ahead of me filled with surprises and disappointment and what not.
But then my heart states the fact that for me these 17 years are my life and maybe these maybe the last years I've got in front of my eyes. Isn't the end impetuous?
We had a wonderful thing going on. The fights the insecurities all seemed worth it in the end.
The fragile promises of always being there for each other and always being together were made after the strokes of midnight.
Planning our future together was the best part. Even in the dullest days we were able to find exquisite happiness in designing our home and planning the number of children.
These childish moments are always warmest moments in one's journey, aren't they?
Even though we were then also aware of the differences, we preferred to live in THAT moment and rank the peace and buoyancy of each other. And we loved each other for that. Her complicated mind was never entangled completely by me completely, guess didn't have much time, but I was always able to understand it.
My inner child was never quite but she taught the restless bastard how soothing peace can be.
Rest the next day.