I’m telling myself it’s okay. I loved you with my everything and you just needed something different than I could put together. I’m saying I was a building sandcastles kind of person and you always asked why I bothered when it was going to wash away. I think we did our best. I’m saying I know she’ll be better than me in the end but I tried so hard I broke myself for it. That’s what I’ve been saying to myself, I guess: at least you tried. It’s just that you needed something different.