Human relationships were strange. I mean, you were with one person a while, eating and sleeping and living with them, loving them, talking to them, going places together, and then it stopped. Then there was a short period when you weren’t with anybody, then another woman arrived, and you ate with her and fucked her, and it all seemed so normal, as if you had been waiting just for her and she had been waiting for you. I never felt right being alone; sometimes it felt good but it never felt right. –Bukowski
Just because you stop doesn’t mean you stopped feeling. It is a time when you must show great restraint. Everything you would say, everything you would do is now simply not an option. Everything is blurry. And love becomes hatred. Hatred towards yourself for allowing to get so close, so attached.
And when love stops and hatred takes it’s turn everything will never be okay again.