She was a beautiful disaster. Always two steps behind in love, getting her heart broken at every turn. Still, she never lost hope. “Someday I’ll find him.” She wore her heart on her sleeve. Every love-torn slogan belonged to her. She was a true soldier in the fight for love. And I had the good fortune to know her. Trust me when I say that she would go down fighting for the cause. And the battle, oh . . . the battle was always love. The sacred of all vows . . . love. She was a warrior. In the end, a casualty of love. I will always remember. She was a beautiful disaster.