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You’re asking yourself if you will ever get over it. – I don’t believe we ever do. Getting over something implies you floated on past the pain, blew kisses, and waved goodbye while leaping to freedom. I’ve never been able to jump after having the contents of my heart scattered and sewn over fields that will produce memory-laden blooms. The thing is… you get through it. But the seeds have been planted. Those memories grow. And every morning I still hear: ‘He loved me. He loved me not.
