1.

"I'm so sorry Ana. Please don't hate me," he said as I gathered my purse to get out of his car. Funny, it sounded like he was almost remorseful... Almost. The funny thing about remorse is; the ones inflicting it, never feel half of those receiving.

Halfway down the hall to the door, with my head down, I am begging my eyes to not let the tears fall. He doesn't deserve your tears Ana, no one does. I tell myself. It has become my mantra. No one gets to hurt you. No one gets another piece of you. They just don't. But I'm lying to myself. Because after a year to the day, something I once held so dear is done. He doesn't want me anymore. He doesn't want us anymore. I know that he tried. I know I am so hard, and I am so much. But this time, I thought I was worth it. I thought he did too. Clearly I was wrong. This hall is so long. I don't ever remember it being this long. As I reach the door, I can feel him right behind me. He is so close. I have the capability to fix this. I know that's what he wants. But I can't. I don't have it in me. Just then, Jose puts his hand on the door pushing it closed. Resigned, I turn and lean against it. It is all I have to hold me up at this point.

With a sigh I say, "I don't hate you. I am so sad. I'm sad that you didn't think we were worth it to try and get through this and that you couldn't just be patient with me. I'm sad that it is easy for you to just walk away, because this has been really, really hard for me. I'm sad that you didn't even think that maybe, just maybe it won't always be like this and that I won't always be like this, that every day I am trying. I am trying to be better for me, for you. I am trying so hard. I'm sad that even though I said all that it doesn't matter. Because at the end of the day, regardless of circumstance if you care about and want to be with someone you will find a way. If not, you will find an excuse, period. That's what it boils down to at the end of the day; you didn't care enough to even try. I guess I was right in having that fear that I would be the variable you remove when things get hard, that you can never love me enough. I hate being right. So no Jose, I'm not mad. Not in the slightest. I am really, really sad. I thought I was worth it. I needed to be worth it."

He didn't expect that response. He is staring down at me, with his arms on either side of me. He is willing me to continue. I have nothing else to say. I know it is me. I am not easy to love. My walls are so incredibly high that is almost impossible to get in. Jose got closer than anyone ever has. He is the first man I have ever been fully honest with, and even then. That was not enough. I was not enough. I love him; to the amount I am capable. I really did. I really do. But it's not enough. I know that. I know that I can beg him to stay and he will. I know that's what he wants; for me to fight. But I can't. He deserves better than me. Everyone does.

"I love you Ana. I love you so much. I know you know that, I know you believe that. But you make it so hard. You treat our relationship as a business arrangement. Every moment, every event, everything we do is carefully planned and orchestrated. You still flinch when I touch you. I know you love me. But this last month, I waited for a sign from you, something…Anything that would prove that you are just an invested as I am. You gave me space, because it was easy. It's probably a relief that you didn't have to play house anymore and go back to your life alone. The only place you feel completely safe. But you were safe with me Ana. I would have never hurt you. All I wanted to do was protect you. You are my best friend. I wanted to marry you, build a life together. But you won't let me in. You never really have. You are worth it, you are worth everything. But I can't continue loving you at a distance. If you love me, if you want to make this work, you will talk. We will work through this together and you will finally let me in. Or you will walk away. I don't want to lose you. But I can't love you like this."

With that, I turn around, his arms still on either side of me. Put my sunglasses on. At this moment I am holding on by a thread, and my traitorous eyes will not hold out much longer. As I close the door, I realize I am closing the door on the man who I spent the last year falling in love with, that I gave my heart to, that I woke up next to. I don't look back. I can't, I will not survive if I have to look in those eyes that I thought would be mine forever. I know he doesn't want this, but he did this and there is no going back. As I get in my car, frantically trying to start it and get the fuck out of here. I cannot let him see me cry.

As I drive home, my face wet from the tears, with the taste of salt on my lips, I reflect. What brought us here? What did I do? What didn't I do? As open and honest as I have ever been with another human being, it had been with him. Granted, it was only once. I quickly reverted once I told him and begged him to never speak about it again. I didn't tell him everything though. Not even close. I've never said any of it out loud. I can't, it's too painful. I wish he understood what that meant to me telling him. It was so hard. I was shattered again. In the end, it didn't matter. We are here now. We are done.

Truth be told, Jose got the best version of me. I have spent the last few years solely focused on becoming the best version of myself. I knew that once I was ready to date and find my other half that I would expect a lot. So I knew I had to be worth a lot too. When I finally decided I was tired of living this falsified existence that I built on antidepressants, alcohol and manufactured relationships. I knew I needed to address the root. Because I cannot fathom speaking about my past, I began to write, pen to paper. That was my form of therapy. I don't like talking. I don't like opening up. I don't think I am even capable if we are being honest. Even if I tried, the words would never leave my mouth. The thought petrified me. But writing was my solace. I felt safe within those pages. I started from the beginning to the end, anything and everything. I wrote out every last detail, at least all that I could remember. I purged my entire soul onto paper for years. I felt cleansed. All the hurt I have been through, all of the pain. It was all out there palpable in spiral notebooks, dozens of them.

When I mentally felt free, physical was next. Somewhere along the line, between the drinking, and the antidepressants, the self-loathing and pain, I lost myself. Physically speaking, I had never been so unhealthy in my life. So I began to work out, daily, sometimes twice a day. I ate right. I watched everything I put in my body. In a years' time, I was in better shape than I was in high school. Although I still could not bring myself to see what others did, I felt pretty damn good. Within a year, I was able to ween off everything I had been taking to keep me functioning. It was petrifying at first. To have all these feelings, all the emotions I was now accountable for. I suppressed them for an embarrassing amount of years. For years, I was reliant on these medications to exist. I didn't think I could function without them. But I did, and I do. I thought I was finally ready to concur whatever was next.

Lastly, on my checklist was for me. To say I have dated a lot of men is an understatement. So to create a list of what I do and don't want in a man and relationship was quite easy. I always dated the wrong men, knew I was doing it, and chose them anyways. I chose them because I knew I would never have to offer up my soul, my heart, what I really am. I found a great amount of peace in knowing they can never truly hurt me, because I was already dead. To be quite honest, most are nameless and faceless at this point. Sure, there were those few that tried to save me. But they all failed miserably. Until Jose, he was getting there. Maybe not in the time that he hoped. But he got me more than any man ever had.

Jose was my checklist to a T. He was the epitome of the checklist. He was strong, driven, kind, incredibly sensitive. For the first time ever, I was safe. Not just emotionally but physically as well. I knew he would always protect me. He would never let any harm come to me. He was the man who walked along the outside of the street, the one who at the first site of precipitation put his jacket over my head, he was patient. He was going to change everything. He was it, the game changer. Finally, I have my peace. That is, until I didn't. Within the last month, there was an apparent shift in his behavior towards me. He started contacting me less, seeing me less; he no longer said the endearing things he had in months prior. Something was wrong. I knew what the problem was, I knew it was me. But I couldn't will myself to fix it. Internally I was devastated; I didn't want to lose him. I knew he needed more from me. But I just couldn't. He deserved so much, and I wasn't capable. I tried. I really did try.

Outwardly, I was patient. Because I thought if I could just get him to hold on a little longer, he would realize that he doesn't want to do this. But as we reached the 3rd week, with no end in sight I knew this was not good. I was so angry, so hurt. Why couldn't I be enough like this? Why does everyone always want more? But when it came to him, I was different. Everyone told him that. He knew that. He knew I gave him as much as I could. But it would never be enough for someone who wears their heart on their sleeve. So I began to give him space. I thought he would surely come back seeing how life is without me. He would find his way back. I couldn't have been more wrong. By the last week, I knew we were on borrowed time. I wasn't sure if it was confusion or fear of really hurting me, but he prolonged it. Those four weeks I was in purgatory. It was devastating. But I didn't want to let go. He was worth holding onto. Unfortunately, I wasn't.

"He left me," I tell Kate. Katherine Kavanagh, my best friend and roommate from college. The term opposites attract was made for us. "What the fuck do you mean he left you? You spent the last month supporting him, giving him his space, and for what? What bullshit excuse did he give you"? She really has no filter either. "I don't know. He needed more. I couldn't give him more. I wanted to. I wanted him to know how important he was to me. I wanted him to know how much I trusted and loved him. I tried so many times to verbalize it. But everything time, the words would just not articulate. I wish I could have been enough as I am why wasn't I good enough to make him happy? I have come so far. He has no idea. Why wasn't I enough?" My eyes are starting to hurt. She hates my self-loathing. I do too. But it's incredibly hard to rationalize someone who just told you they loved you walking away. Especially when you could have stopped this if you could have just opened up…

And with a deep sigh she says, "Ana…He's right. You give people a tiny sliver of you. Only enough to where they won't come any closer. Yes, you were more open with him than anyone in your life. Including me…But he was your partner. You told him time and again how safe he made you feel. But not safe enough to be honest with him fully and it's not fair. It's not fair to the man who wants to be your everything. You are so hard to love Ana. Not because you aren't worth it. But because you don't think you are. You've built this seemingly perfect life. From the outside looking in you have it all together; the perfect little place, with the amazing career, doting friends and family. You are wonder woman. You do this because no one will ever question how destroyed you are. That is, unless they truly love you."

I sigh. I know she is not done.

"But can I be candid here?" She asks. However rhetorical it is. I already know where she's going with this. "I am proud of you Ana. Who you are today, and who you were 2 years ago are not even on the same planet. You have grown and worked so hard for this amazing person you have become. But let's get real. All the journals you've written, all the tears you've shed, all the miles you've ran are not going to allow you to escape what the root of the issue with your lack of self-worth." Fuck. Here is comes. "You need therapy. You need to actually talk to a professional. You have spent your whole life dulling the pain with medication, choosing relationships that are beyond toxic, just so you can feel and it's time. You have now given up the person you proclaimed to love all because you cannot deal with this. You've never dealt with any of this. Sure you took some antidepressants; you drank far too much and spiraled out of control. But then you got better. Well, better-ish." She says with every ounce of hesitation. As if she's waiting for me to go nuclear. She knows this subject is a no fly zone for everyone who knows me. To be clear, no one on this planet knows the whole story. Not even close. And most that know, don't even know it was me.

She's right, I do need to talk. I won't, it will never happen. Not even the loss of someone I care deeply about will motivate me to do it. This is who I am. "I would say thank you Kate. But I feel worse than when I got on the phone", I say with exasperation. "I love you enough to call you on this shit Ana. Have a safe flight and call me when you land. I love you."

With all of this mess the last few weeks I totally forgot I am flying to Austin tonight for work. I am not in the mind frame to go and assist with the build of our new program, but at this point, I don't think I have any other choice but to go. However, this may actually be a good thing. I need to focus my head somewhere else and this is a perfect opportunity to do so. At the very least my anxiety will be redirected to my real fear; flying. I avoid these trips at all costs, and will drive hours rather than sit on a plane. But there was absolutely no way around it. Resigned to the fact that I need to get ready as my flight leaves in a few hours, I throw my phone in the cup holder and proceed to go inside to pack as quick as I can.

A few hours later, I am done packing for a week in Austin. Probably a little over packed as I have no idea what the itinerary holds. But needless to say, I am ready. I place my bags by the front door, and make my way to the shower. The water is exceptionally hot. Especially on my face, I equate it to being sensitive from the tears I shed today. As I lather my body, paying special attention to my arms, specifically my lower arms and wrists. My fingers linger a little longer on the palpable reminder of how damaged I really am. Of course he can't love me. Who would want to stay with someone like me? I am surprised he lasted as long as he did.

I realize my phone is blinking and realize I have multiple missed texts from Jose. At this point, I feel as though he is trying to torture me slowly.

-Watching you walk away will go down in history as the worst moment of my life...

-Ana, I love you. You know that right? You know I love you more than anything. That is why I did this. You won't let me in. I can't love you the way you deserve.

-I will never not love you.

I throw my phone back in the cup holder and head to Sea-Tac. I don't know when or how it got so late but my flight is scheduled to leave in 30 minutes. The airport is a nightmare. It's always frustrating when I fly out of here. It's a Friday and not only is it insanely busy, but I probably picked the furthest parking structure from where I need to be. As I am jogging to my respective terminal I hear my phone ding for a text message. Against my better judgement, I look down to grab it out of my purse.

In a fraction of a second, I have now collided with a man in front of me. "Fuck!" I shout as I watch my phone drop to the ground and the glass particles shatter everywhere. "Could this day get any worse?" I say to myself as I watch the man I just nearly knocked over bend over and grab the remnants of my phone. "Yeah, you could be the guy who just got nearly pummeled by a gorgeous stranger. Actually when I put it like that, I guess my luck isn't so bad after all", he says with a laugh. Wait...I know that voice, I think to myself as my eyes wander towards his face.

Fuck...I know him.