Share one of your life's stories:

When writing your story, please use correct spelling and grammar. Please use a capital I rather than a lower i, and use apostrophes correctly. Such as I'm, don't, can't.

I’ve been through a worse breakup before

I’ve been through a worse breakup before. So, I know that inevitably after the anger wears off, the positive memories come out. It will make you miss the good and forget about the bad and you’ll miss them. But you can’t miss them. When everything was tears, and anger you knew that this was better this way. And they’ll be going through it too.

She told me she missed me today. The conversation was forced into where things went wrong, missing each other, the waste, the lie, the way two people met at a crossroads and changed before each other into what neither could love anymore.

Finance, family, health, and the future eventually kill most love. That was not what did it.

What killed love between us was only her. Whipped into a frenzy for the fourth week straight, she screamed about a joke my mother made the day before. She smashed the painting that my grandmother had painted with oil on canvas in 1948 and she screamed about my family and she packed up and left.

When I phoned her five days later she ridiculed me and told me things were over.

I dropped a match on the floor of our apartment into the heart shaped box of letters she wrote me over the five years we lived, laughed, and loved. I walked away from the fire to the driver who took me to the airport and when I landed on the other side of the country I finally inhaled.

Thank God, it’s over.


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