I have never seen this side of him. I told him I was leaving because I feel so empty. I guess his ego couldn’t understand that he is lacking in areas that bring me joy. I want to live and I want to laugh that boisterous laugh. You know, the one which develops in your belly and makes its way upwards. That laugh. I have lost this version of me I hate losing and he is the reason. I’m not alive, I have become flaccid.

Where is the obnoxious version of me? The version who makes a room vibrant? Where is she? Why has she gone?

I look at him and say “You are the reason she has gone. I need her back”

He tells me to stay and he will fix it. I look him in his eyes and tell him “If I have to find myself all over

again while being with you, you aren’t worth it.”

The shattered glass and broken furniture scattered everywhere gave the impression that a tornado had passed through, but it was something much worse.

His rage.