He leaves her standing there all alone, with the cold wind slapping against her face, and he takes all of his ideals and dreams with him, leaving her high and dry.

So she stands there, left with nothing but the truth—but really, since when was the truth ever helpful?

And she doesn't know how she'll ever move on if she can't discern black from white, right from wrong, and truth from lies—because all he left her with were shades of gray (nothing was ever definite with him after all).

Her world will never be the same.