Even when we were happy, you seemed sad. The reasons were hidden away but their insidious damage was done just the same. Like rot that slowly turns good wood into rotten, your secrets poisoned you, corrupted our love and your taint rubbed off on me. Y.M.

Some people turn sad awfully young…
No special reason, it seems,
but they seem almost to be born that way.
They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker,
remember longer, and, as I say,
get sadder younger than anyone else in the world.
I know, for I’m one of them.
Ray Bradbury