She thought he'd be different.

He was supposed to be different from all those other guys - all those jerks she'd fallen for in the past. 

He was the nice one, the sweet one, the one who cared, the one who gave and didn't just take.

He wasn't.

He had been brutal in those last few moments, his every word piercing her heart. He had been bitter at that time, the thickness of it all suffocating her. He hadn't cared about how she felt, leaving her bruised inside. He took it all - left nothing for her but the sliver of memories and feelings.

She was supposed to forget.

She was supposed to forget those memories and feelings – like she had before.

She was supposed to put it behind her, forget, let go, leave them as if they were words written in another book.

She didn’t.

She pulled it along with her, the burden holding her back. She remembered, every thought and memory evaporating into the air. She held on, keeping them close to her. She never left – never left the memories and feelings, even though they gave her an indescribable pain.

That was life.

And that was her love.