Quotes About Closure

My letters are for when I don't want to be in love anymore. They're for good-bye. Because after I write in my letter, I'm not longer consumed by my all-consuming love...My letters set me free. Or at least they're supposed to.

I couldn't even be mad at him, because this was who he was. This was who he'd always been. He'd never lied about that. He gave and then he took away. I felt it in the pit of my stomach, the familiar ache, that lost, regretful feeling only he could give me. I never wanted to feel it again. Never, ever. Maybe this was why I came, so I could really know. So I could say good-bye.

Wait!" he yelled. I didn't turn around, I walked faster. Then I heard him slam his fist on the hood of his car. I almost stopped. Maybe I would have if he'd followed me. But he didn't. He got in his car and he left, just like he said he would.

You just want to keep me on this hook, right? So I'll keep chasing after you and you can feel good about yourself. As soon as I start to get over you, you just reel me back in. You're so screwed up in the head. But I'm telling you, this is it. You don't get to have me anymore. Not as your friend or your admirer or anything. I'm through.

It was over before I even had a chance.

In his eyes, there was no trace of what had happened earlier, and I could feel something inside me break. So that was that. We were finally, finally over.

I decided Conrad was right after all. Ilsa was meant to be with Laszlo. That was the way it was always supposed to end. Rick was nothing but a tiny piece of her past, a piece that she would always treasure, but that was all, because history is just that. History.

I just want it to be fun and light the way it always is with us. I want him to at leas still be my friend. Especially now that we're at the end.

Just like that, it was over. It was over before I even had a chance.

They're not love letters in the strictest sense of the word. My letters are for when I don't want to be in love anymore. They're for good-bye. Because after I write my letter, I'm no longer consumed by my all-consuming love.

I thought I was over him. When I wrote my letter, when I said my goodbyes, I mean it, I swear I did. It wasn´t even that hard, not really.

If love is like a possession, maybe my letters are like my exorcisms. My letters set me free.

But what now? What am I supposed to do with all these feelings? I suppose there´s only one thing I can do. I´ll write him another letter. A postscript with as many pages as it takes to X away whatever feelings I have left for him. I´ll put this wholw thing to rest once and for all. I go to my room and I find my special writing pen, the one with the really smooth inky-blackink. I take out my heavy writing paper, and I begin to write.

And I'm certain, I'm so suddenly certain that everything is exactly the way it's supposed to be, that I don't have to be so afraid of good-bye, because good-bye doesn't have to be forever.

If I kept you with me, I was going to hurt you somehow. I knew it. I couldn't have it. So I let you go.

A good scrapbook has texture. It's thick and chunky and doesn't close all the way.

and awful. He never had anything to say to me, and I never knew what to say to him. Finally

Things are ending, but they are beginning, too.

I thought I was over him ... I meant it, I swear I did. It wasn't even that hard, not really.

They're not love letters in the strictest sense of the word. My letters are for when I don't want to be in love anymore. They're for good-bye.

Because after I write my letter, I'm no longer consumed by my all-consuming love.

I'm here to break up.

If we were meant to be, how could we both walk away just like that? I guess the answer is, we weren't.

but my heart doesn't seem to understand it's over.