Emptiness and I are no strangers;
Nor am I alien to pain;
Dying, I lay claim to my devotion:
Endings make no change to the times I thought we shared.
Don't think I care not now, for care is the only thing I have.
Something said in church imparted me with more inspiration and drive to carry on.
"God loves you, and I love you."
That's really all I can say; I cannot rationalize eight or more years of my life to you. Not now. I do love you; I loved you in a way purer than I could love a man (who I'd be interested romantically in, more than likely, of course). It doesn't amount to much, does it?