It was easy to love him.
Loving him was like watching rain patter onto the window of my car. He made me feel comforted, deep in thought. It was late night conversations about the future, and promises that we would always be in it together no matter the circumstance. It was memorizing the outline of his freckles, and the space between his fingers. Inheriting his laugh, and falling into his words. Loving him was easy to fall into, he made it that way.

But leaving him was another story.
Leaving him was like pouring acid down my veins. It was countless nights wondering if I was just overthinking or if the red flags I saw were real. Leaving him felt like I was ripping out my lungs, which makes sense because I haven’t been able to breathe since I did it. He thought that it was easy for me, but it wasn’t easy being hurt time after time. Broken promise after broken promise. It wasnt easy to choose to grieve over someone still alive.