Yesterday night

"Vegy," my name, seemed far away and unfamiliar as I spoke it. Would it be okay if I just lay here and let the pain overwhelm me? A Three times over, the lie—"I'm not crying"—became a more desperate defense against the barrage of her remarks. When my companion heard the word "speechless," my heart began pounding. The loss that tore through me was evidence of the depth of my love, which could not be denied. I gave it everything I had and pleaded with her to stay, but she had left. The idea of falling in love again felt like a betrayal of the anguish I carried, and the pieces of my broken self were all over the place.