They make us feel like heartbreak is normal, like abandonment is so normal that everyone has experienced it, or will. And that there is an appropriate amount of time, of life experiences to follow, that should erase the pain enough for you to be fine. But I wasn’t built that way. Your spit on our “I love you” will hold hands with me the rest of my life. The way you left is part of her now: her hair color, an extra tooth, shitty eyesight. It is what is, what’s become of her since you. She loved so big, she wrote it on her chest. When it was cut down at the root, you grew in its place. And her vision was never the same again.