The three things I did wrong

1) The first night we were together, as we fell asleep after it all, I lay on my right side while you curled around me and told me you loved me. That I was the second girl you had ever loved. I felt so safe and I shouldn’t have. I should have been more careful with my heart and with yours.
But it took me a long time to learn the hardest lesson I think I have ever learned:
Love is not enough.

2) The last night we were together I let you comfort me, hold my hair back while I threw up and sleep next to me like I mattered to you. I should have asked you to leave, asked Mackenzie to sleep next to me and been done with it. But despite the shift in reality and too much champagne, I, somewhere within me, thought that something good would come of my vulnerability.
It took me only days to learn a simple lesson I should have known from the beginning:
Heartbreak is going to make you beg on your knees for relief. It doesn’t heal like a hangover.

3) When you held my waist in the kitchen and I held your shirt to steady myself against the tears, I should not have focused on how beautiful or strong your hands were. Of all the moments, this is the one I replay the most. You whispering “How did we get here.” in a shattering way and knowing, with utmost clarity, that there was no way to turn around.
I learned that day that it was over. That it had been over. That we screwed it up, and we did it together. We murdered what we built and tried to burn the body. God knows, there is no such thing as the perfect crime.

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