Loss hits differently when you’re the one walking away.

You can tell yourself it’s for the best, that anyone in your position would do the same, if not now, then sooner. And yet it still feels like throwing the towel early. It feels like you’re done trying, and all the promises you made to yourself about seeing it to the end were gone with the wind. You feel like a liar.

But what else can you do? When something has consumed you so completely—so wholly— that all that’s left of you is a carcass and remnants of intentions that once were? Are you really the same person who made that promise all that time ago? Have you really changed from the person who woke up on your side of the bed this morning?

I wish I had answers to this— to all of this. I wish I could say I was stronger. I wish I could’ve held on for ten more seconds. Maybe, just maybe, things would’ve changed in those ten seconds. Maybe that was all I needed— time, and a Deus Ex Machina.

But time deserted me, and no god looks out for me. I am no one, in the grand scheme of things, and there’s nothing to stop me from leaving, no matter how many signs I wish came my way. I sigh.

I should’ve known better than to order a monster burrito.