“So,” he smiled, “tell me yours.”
“My what?” She replied.
“You know, your love story, tell me about the guy who made you obsessed with the idea that you’re better off alone.”
“It wasn’t a love story. Far from that. Barely a story actually. There was fighting, ignorance, stubbornness, cancellations, toxicity, emotional torture, and let’s not forget the constant competition of who cared less. We just didn’t work and I know that killed him just as much as it hurt me but lord knows he was a hell of a lot better at hiding that than I was. We were actually crazy about each other, I know, hard to believe right? I mean, there were times I hated his guts and I swore to myself I would never talk to him again and I meant it too, at the time.. But it never lasted long, eventually we made up, apologised, fucked, you know.. The usual “make up” stuff. But it wasn’t along until the next fight, and I think it just got exhausting, you know.. To keep going round in circles. The routine got boring and there’s only so much pain you can put yourself through before you say enough is enough. And one day, enough was enough and we accepted it, we wasn’t supposed to be. Maybe in another lifetime but certainly not this one.“
— Excerpt of a book I’ll never write