I remember the first day I knew he wasn’t the one for me.
I was sitting cross legged in his living room, trying to calm him down as he swirled around me going through the checklist of things he still needed to make sure he packed. He was moving five states west so we could be together. The moment we’d been waiting for since we met. The moment we’d laughed over and cried over and fought over. We were finally going to be together.
As he handed me a pair of jeans to place inside the blue tub in front of me, a thought passed through my head like a quick blinding light. “He isn’t the one for you,” it said. I tried to shake it out of my head as quickly as it came but its harshness was suffocating, like those six words were strangling me.
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