The Good & The Bad

“My name is James, I go to Roosevelt…”

Those were the words that changed my life. 

The night we met it was as if I had entered a new chapter in my life. The author had introduced this new character in such detail the reader must know they were going to be very important. After a week he not only held the pen that wrote my story but the book that I have called my life now had notes in the margins. 

Not only had I lent him my heart but he had ripped my own story out of my once strong arms. 

He would call me “princess”, and he would treat me like one too. Every month he’d be at my doorstep with flowers and my favorite snacks. I kept chapstick in his car door and a sweatshirt in his backseat. We shared everything with each other.

He was at my doorstep three days after the first breakup. He called, but I refused to answer the phone. I now know he’s not the type of person to take no for an answer. He begged me to listen. 

He spoke to my parents with more respect than I thought was possible. When I had to shower he would play with my little siblings. He loved my family as if they were an extension of me. 

My family saw him as an extension of me. My parents loved him like a son. I couldn’t possibly tell them that I didn’t love him anymore. Telling them what happened between us would be like turning myself into the police. Breaking my heart was enough, I couldn’t let him break theirs too. 

We would always go on walks together. It was our favorite thing to do. 

I can’t go on walks anymore. When we were together, we walked every bit of this little town. My neighborhood, his neighborhood, the beach, the park, around our school. Our shoes had kissed every bit of sidewalk they possibly could. We would talk about everything and nothing all at the same time. When we started to run out of things to talk about, I knew we were coming to an end. 

He told me he would never leave me. 

He was telling the truth. I left him.