A part of me knew this was going to happen. Every time I said ‘I’m okay’ when I wasn’t. Every time I said ‘I forgive you’ and I knew I didn’t. Every forgotten date. Every forgotten dinner. Every ignored expectation. Every time I thought ‘you should have been here’. Piece by piece this imagine of my perfect relationship was shattered. Now, the queen size been you slept in was getting cold. The pictures on the walls of every happy moment were like taunting laughs at my foolishnesses.

My face turns on the photo glaring back at me for ruining it. For giving up. For being a coward. For packing up my things while you’re not home and putting them in my car.

I called my mom. I didn’t get a word out before I started sobbing. She promised me it was going to be okay. She promised me that I would find someone better.

But she’s assuming you are the problem. Maybe I didn’t talk enough. Maybe I set my expectations too high. Maybe I wasn’t enough.

I quickly shake my head tossing aside the looming thoughts threatening to take me down. There will be time for them. After I’m gone.

I pick up the photo of us at your birthday party. The whole day was perfect. Every laugh and inside joke we shared. The look you gave me in the new red dress I brought specifically for you. Every kiss that made my heart flutter and every hug that made me feel loved.

I pulled the picture close to my heart as I walked towards the door. The coldness of the doorknob screamed at me to turn around. To fix this before there no chance to. Instead I opened the door taken by the harsh winds of autumn. The house was warm, comforting and the outside was uncertain, harsh. It should be as easy choice, but I already made mine.

Maybe this is my fault. Maybe it’s his. Maybe we share it equally. Maybe I’ll never truly know.

As I pull shut the front door, embracing the cold, there is a part of me hopes you will come for me, but the other knows better.