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You killed us.

You pulled the trigger on our 4-year-old relationship, and you were unbothered.

You didn’t stop to think to discuss it with me first.

You never bothered to include me in this life-altering decision that affects us both.

How do you wake up one day, after 4 years, and decide to give up on something that you had a hand in building?

Was it me?

Did I offend you?

Did my questions about our future frighten you?

Did my depression make me less lovable?

Or were you merely with me for the good times?

Because when shit got real and rough, when you realized that I was not some fairytale from fables but an actual human being, you left.

Even though my heart feels like pieces of glass splattered on the floor, I feel like a bird flapping its wings out of its cage after a lengthy sentence behind bars.

You made me happy.

You were my best friend and lover.

But I think you needed me too much.

You needed me to make you feel human, and in order to do that, I gave up parts of myself.

I gave up my ability to stand on my own two feet, to dream and to just be.

But this feeling of emancipation doesn’t stop the deep throbbing pain that I feel.

So when I get home tonight, I expect you to explain to me why you killed us.

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