Were you to return to me, I know you would leave again. The reasons haven't changed. And now I possess the dinge that pain leaves,the dinge that no amount of newfound joy can quite mask. You would see it, and have to avert your gaze from me, and that would begin the end. I always truly believed love would conquer all; that a strong enough love would color every challenge do-able. Yet, though I loved you with every fibre, every thought, you found insurmountable fault. You let yourself out. So my precious little surmise did not hold true, and I no longer can believe in love conquering all. It is desperately grueling to go on without it.