Unknown

First, I thought summer would mark the end of school: of graduating and of moving in with the one person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. And then, I thought it would bring an end to everything I'd held dear; I thought it meant the start of a new life in a different city for him, goodbyes, and thousands of "what if...?". Shortly after that, I believed summer would be something of a reprieve from sorrow and confusion. Now I see that summer was truly a time of anger and of pain, of screaming fights and insults that stick inside the mind for years, of hatred.
I understand now that disappointment should be expected around every corner. Nothing is ever as easy as you want or expect it to be. That's life, isn't it? Ever uncertain, always changing, forever indistinct. I guess the only thing to be said about it is that it's nothing to cry about. After all, what's an adventure without a little bit of rocky sailing?