I recently broke up with someone. I feel, in the long run, it's for the best. I went for a walk today and really started to miss them. I went to Balboa Park and walked around for Cinco de Mayo. I walked down the center of the park to Panama 66, I went around the fountain and over to the rose garden. There's a nice spot near the rose garden, just over the walkway to where the Cactus's and desert-like area is displayed; I stopped here to write.
Perhaps we’ll run into each other by chance; perhaps it’ll be the spark we needed, the jolt to the life we craved. Perhaps we’ll see each other among the roses and speak the way lovers should; conversations that keep us up all night with a substance that too few know. In justifying why I left, I find it hard to summon the thoughts. Maybe the reason simply wasn’t good enough, though I convinced myself, it was so.