I sat in a busy waiting room of a hospital waiting for my mom. I sat, feeling numb, knowing that we were headed down a long road of healing and recovery for her.

Tears rolled down my cheeks and under the fucking mask covering my face. I didn’t even attempt to wipe them away. I was too tired to care what anyone thought. My mom was my best friend. Watching her hurt and combat fear of what was happening, while trying to be strong, broke my heart.

I sat in a room full of people and yet completely alone.

In that forced moment of silence, waiting for her, I had the time to process the emotions that I had been avoiding. He had text me earlier that day, sending well wishes for my mom. He was taking all of the steps that I had asked so it seemed unfair to be ending things now. Isn’t it funny how these things work?

I didn’t need to make him into the enemy. I didn’t need to start a fight, I honestly didn’t have any left in me to start. He didn’t need to be bad or wrong. I didn’t need to talk shit about him to all of my friends. I didn’t need to paint him in a bad light. It came down to a simple fact, “I can’t love you the way you want to be loved and you can’t love me the way that I want to be loved”.

I didn’t want to try anymore. You may think I am saying that I didn’t want to try with him, that isn’t what I am saying. I didn’t want to try to be me, when I was with him, anymore. You see, I never could sink into me, into who I was, when I was with him. I didn’t want to try anymore.

The moment I made the decision, I found myself. I stepped into myself on a level that I hadn’t known before. I picked me.