Life on One's Own Terms

I will not return to a place that has given me nothing, no matter what comes to pass.
Those whose company leaves me with nothing but a heavy heart—I will keep my distance from them now, whatever anyone may say.
I will not live that way again, not even by mistake, the way that makes you count the hours until death, however much it may hurt.
A cottage will do for me, not a palace, if peace waits for me there at last.
I will keep love itself as my companion, not the person I love, and live quite well if I cannot hold onto him.
If living with myself means living on my own terms, in my own way, then so be it—better than living with someone and suffering for it.
In the end, you weep alone, you wipe your own tears alone.
When sorrow finds no companion in another soul, what good is it to pretend before someone's face, wearing a mask of your own making?