The song by The Black Eyed Peas always sends a euphoric chill up my back. It was years ago now, but this song reigned over a time where I was alone and confused. Probably the first time of many that these emotions would occur together, it incorporates a love for someone that I still miss.

When the song plays my first visual memory is of sitting on a bus. My first day at my most memorable job, a place where my adult life began. I see my hometown passing as I look out the window, gas and train station busy with people. The future seemed exciting and yet depressing.

It all started around the time of my twenty-first birthday. A fabulous party with all of my family and friends that my fiance, John, and I had arranged. He had only proposed a few months before that and I excitedly said yes. My party had a guest I wanted there more than I should and with my upcoming wedding I drowned out the thoughts with a little bit of alcohol.

It didn't take long for the excitement to wear off and the overwhelming fear to fill my veins as my thoughts became louder and louder telling me to run away. I escaped the anxiety by drinking a little bit of red wine here and there. Then a bottle every few days and soon, as my partner worked while the sun was down I would polish off a bottle every night. Most nights ended with me looking into the toilet bowl, hoping to be cleaned up and asleep before he got home.

Panadol became my best friend and smoking was another joy of mine. With my inhibitions gone most nights, I would find myself talking more and more to my party guest on messenger. My fiance's best friend.

Our conversations deepened quickly and soon became ten hour sessions. We talked about music and movies and since my fiance was eleven years older than me, it was nice to have someone my own age to talk to.

Night after night we would talk. Getting to know each other too much. On the weekends the fiance and I would meet up with him and do things. Quick glances across the table, slight touches of arms when standing around. It was escalating.

I dreaded the time I spent with my partner as everything he did wasn't what Mark would do. He was no longer the things I loved him for because, I didn't love him any more.

I don't know if I ever truly did.

I wasn't able to talk to anyone about how I was feeling because if I didn't leave John then people would know how I felt. I was all alone. The only person I wanted to talk to was the person I shouldn't.

It went on like this for a couple of months. I was so scared of how to leave and where I would go. I was even more scared that I would no longer be able to talk to or see Mark. I was making myself so sick with the drinking and stress that I finally spoke to a doctor. He was straight-forward and blunt with me. He advised me to write down what I would want to say and read it aloud. He said I only needed to tell one person, the person I would need to move in with. My dad. He said that the rest would work itself out in time once I stood my ground and ended the relationship.

Writing the letter took me over a week. I had to write it on my computer so I could save it somewhere weird so he would never find it. Draft after draft. I had a few different versions saved. The word sorry was repeating through it. Because I was.

I didn't want to hurt him. I didn't want to be hated. I wanted to be free. Saying that to someone can only be taken one way so I spent my time doing what I could to make it all about my faults and not his.

It was the day. Today I would do it. It was a Saturday and he was at work until 1pm. I made lunch, cleaned the house, washed and ironed all of his clothing, and prepared dinner. I had the letter in the back pocket of my jeans and sweaty palms.

His Harley pulled up in the garage. Fuck, shit, fuck. My thoughts were a mess and I hoped that I was doing the right thing. I was. I was.

It was a painfully long night after I read the letter to him. It asked him to forgive me and explained that I was so young and he, being 11 years older than me, deserved someone who wanted a family and I had realised that I didn't. No yet. I couldn't give him what he needed.

He cried. We hugged. We sat in the bath and drank wine. We talked.

Two weeks needed to pass before I could move out as my dad had guests. Those two weeks were long. We hung out with Mark and it was awkward. He knew why I was leaving. I know he knew.

Everything was calm while I moved out. We were going to stay friends. He was nice about it. Sad, but nice.

Months passed, I had a new job, still living with my dad, seeing friends I hadn't spent time with in years because they didn't like John. John would call me almost every day to talk and see how I was. Being friends was all he wanted but I was getting tired and sometimes did not answer.

I was enjoying my freedom but my mind would still wonder about Mark. What was he doing? Was he thinking of me?

I plucked up the courage to contact him and he was pleased that I had finally messaged him. He didn't want to contact me in case I was done with all of John's friends. I was excited. Mark told me about how broken John was, that he would spend every night at his house listening to him cry about his broken heart. Mark was over it. He had grown to hate John without me and wondered why they were friends. I told him to stick with it. He would remember the great guy behind those tears. Though he wanted to avoid John, he didn't want to avoid me. We went back to speaking all day and night. We would spend hours on the phone before bed and our friendship had grown strong. It was time to meet up.

We both knew what would happen if we met up and we wanted to prolong it. If we started dating too soon it would be a shit fight with our friends. We waited four months in total before going to see a movie. Then another. And another. We saw a few movies before we decided to hang out at his place one night. The one night John just happened to stop by with his brother.

He saw my car parked out the front. The door was open and we saw him glide across the front lawn like he could defy physics and he came up those stairs so fast we didn't even have time to collect our thoughts. I was so thankful that we were only having a drink and that door was open. There was nothing happening and John could see it.

He didn't care. No, I should say he cared too much. You could see it on his face. He was broken all over again. Betrayed. We explained we were just friends but it all made sense to him now. There was no going back.

There was only forward and without the worry of him finding out any more Mark and I were free to explore our relationship. We never spoke to John again.

Within two months we had moved in together. I was so at ease with him. We laughed all the time and we planned a family. Almost two years passed and we were so happy.

Until we weren't.

I did it all over again. I did to Mark what I did to John.

This time it was a man named Stephen and I got all of my karma back in one foul swoop.

He broke me more than all the men I had broken before him.