I had this thought that falling in love is like falling asleep. The drowsy half-conscious safe and warm state where it is utterly relaxing, like being sent off down the river of eternity in a bulrush basket, inevitably caught by the welcoming arms of oblivion. What happens after that is hard to say.
And coming out of love is not unlike waking up with fragments of a dream - you interpret and re-interpret but you don't know because there's too much you've already forgotten. Not that it was an illusion, because your deepest hopes and fears manifested themselves in the most vivid way they knew how. Just no continuity when life sets in.
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And I've wondered, when is it too late? Not when you are hurting each other, and there's still something to apologize for. Run run run, people are forgiving.
I met a guy who came out of a four-year relationship. At that point, I don't imagine that you can do anything except admit that you've been going a different direction for some time, and of course you didn't mean to change, but it happened. That's too late.