I thought it starts like this: first, you believe that you can. Then, you work out the sacrifices you have to make. Finally, you keep at it. But it starts much deeper than that.
I thought it started at night. But it really starts in the morning, at dawn.
I thought it started when everything went to pieces, but it probably started when things looked good.
I thought it ended when we dissolved, but I wonder if it will ever end.
I sure hope that there are things that won't change: that instant happiness when I see the bread boy in the hospital, or the fact I'd rather chat with patients than ask them about their symptoms, and how adorably cute I find babies, and the way I love music because it speaks to my soul.
And thanks for telling me that I changed, and how.