I never experienced that I would go through this stage in my life.
I thought he would treat me better, better than my past did, and better than anyone could ever do to me in the future.
I sat down sobbing, my tears flowing down my eyes towards my cheeks as tear continues to drop down from my eyes.
I stared down at my wrist, taking a glance of the cuts.
And looked at the blade I cutted myself with, dripping in blood as I held it in my hand.
It hurts, but not more than the ache he caused in my heart.
I opened my phone, immediately tapped my gallery.
In one album, I saw all of our picture together, I stared at his photos he sent me, at the photos my friends took when he sat next to me, at our photos we took in my phone and in his.
