I'm not sure if I expressed this idea properly. Am I making sense or am I spitballing? Was it always meant to happen, or did I mess it up? Were we simply incompatible, or was it one too many straws? Does this happen to every alternate, or are we special by being separate? Am I unique in my mourning, or are there versions of me doing the same? Were we a hopeless cause, doomed from the start? Or did something rot along the way, ruining our perfect end?