Like they are relateable. Like they happen time and time again.
So here I am being predictable and cliche, writing about grass being green. Usually when it is on the other side.
Once it is gone, I miss it. For years, it was watching over my shoulder…pushing me to pull me closer. And I resented it. I was fearful of it. I repeatedly held back, pushing it away. And now, all I want in the world is to hold it so tight and never let it go.
And now that it is gone I miss it. I only appreciate it now that it is gone. What a damn cliche.
“The reason that clichés become clichés is that they are the hammers and screwdrivers in the toolbox of communication.”
My mentor told me that when you find the right person, you just know. She said that there are no doubts. It is easy. She said that there are no concerns that you love that person more than they love you.