Why does this small part of myself exist?
Why does it make it seem like any other love would be mundane?
Why can’t I just believe the words she wrote and write her off as some brain damaged racist?
Of course, perhaps this would be more manageable without voices in my head, constantly bringing her up, but I have that too.
Only a few seconds ago a CNN article came up about Ghosting.
I’ll share the title, and the most obvious, and yet should be followed, excerpt:
