You love someone and they leave. They come home one day and start packing their things and you say, ‘What’s happening?’ and they say, ‘I got a better offer someplace else,’ and there they go, out of your life forever, and after that until you’re dead you’re carrying around this huge hunk of love with no one to give it to. And if you do find someone to give it to, the same thing happens all over. Or you call them up on the phone one day and say, ‘This is Jason,’ and they say, ‘Who?’ and then you know you’ve had it. They don’t know who the hell you are. So I guess they never did know; you never had them in the first place.
— Philip K. Dick, Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said (via lexistentially)
But he wanted to believe it too, the same way he loved her past all words—believe that no matter how bad the time, nothing was fixed, everything could be changed and she could always deny the dark sea at his back, love it away.