That moment is what I love most about creating something new: the idea, the spark, the beginning, where what might have been was still what might be.

I wondered how much of the feeling of love is chemicals and cravings and dependency, and how much of the act of love is habit.

We are both wounded in our own way and, like a pair of tectonic plates shifting over time, our wounds will gradually grate against one another’s, causing damage at a glacial pace. Neither of us will notice until it’s too late.

I was supporting him when I needed support. And I was being made to feel responsible for all his problems. It was a microcosm of our entire relationship.

I pictured the couple we might someday become. And in my mind, in that moment at least, they lived happily ever after.