Growing apart was like pulling away from each-other while we were bound by an elastic rope. We pulled in different directions but wanted the same thing- to get away. Away from the sorrow that was building up in our eyes, away from the pain to come, away from the several lies we had come to believe. It was like denying gravity. It was like hoping against hope that we could jump high enough to fly, while our feet remained firmly on the ground. And yet we hoped, we prayed, we pulled, we struggled because we knew it was for the better. The rope got weak over time, it frayed around the edges, but it still remains, still persists. Time has left wounds on our hands, wounds that have long since become scars. We’re still pulling, still struggling. But every now and then our eyes meet and we know we’ll be okay.