But maybe, they came into your life for something wonderfully human and brief and fragile: to introduce you to an author who writes into your soul or a song that says what you never could.
Maybe they will never caress your skin in the dark, because they were sent instead so you could finally tell the secret you’d been keeping inside for years; the one you thought couldn’t be said out loud.
Maybe you hold on because your ego has lied to you and said you cannot let people go gently; to leave means insult. So you cling to them, long after their season with you has passed, in vain like the dying man on the mast sinking with his ship. You beg and demand and hope you won’t be able to see the lie in their face or yours. If they are kind, they will not lie to you, but people are only people, and sometimes, a temporary balm that requires less courage is reached for instead of the truth.
Maybe one day, you will learn to accept the impermanence and gift of seasons.