The second I lost you, I lost all my words.
What a shame for a word lover to be rid of the ability to word her own thoughts. What a shame for a writer to forget the desire to keep writing.
You were the only thing I wanted to write about. Yours was the only story I ever wanted to be in.
Now that I have no you, I have nothing to say.
No stories come out of me. I’m stuck in the middle of this poor novel I hoped to finish one day, but what’s the point in making progress when my only chance of a happy ending has been long gone
—since the second I lost you.