I woke up this morning and wished I hadn’t.
Memories of the night before immediately sucker punched me in the stomach and I was fighting to breathe for a few minutes, clutching my pillow, squeezing my eyes shut, hoping that by some miracle that I could disappear. I looked at my phone. He had given up trying to explain.
As I turned my face towards the jet of steaming hot water in my shower, I wondered when I’d ever felt so irrelevant. So like I just… didn’t matter. I wondered how he could even try and tell me that I wasn’t after what he had done. There was no anger so much as absolute sadness that this time, unlike all the other times, it was actually over. He claimed it wasn’t over for him but for the first time, it was over for me.