"He never expressed himself. He hated confrontation. So, instead of talking, I began writing to him. He became my charging station as well as my baggage drop. He became my unwilling mascot, my self-written Sunday newspaper collumn as well as my only reader. He became the one I loved to hate and hated to love. I was miserable with and without him. He hated my guts but needed me like a vital organ. He could not breathe in my nearness but I needed him like air. I was his but he was never mine. He was the one I never had but lost all the same. It ended bad but it had to end. No one can ever replace him, but sure can make me happier"