A Hue of Blu: the unforgettable love story

by Marie-France Léger

Maybe I fell in love with the potential of people, not who they really were.

“Good enough to fuck,” I stated. “Not good enough to love,” I accepted.

She was my match. An equal. A broken piece of myself, a mirrored shard of glass.

The pressure I carried to be the girl he wanted was overwhelming and unattainable. I’d broken every part of me trying to fit into that pretty, perfect mould. I’d lost sight of who I was just so he could glance in my direction for one second – because that one second was my heroin. And he watched me overdose.

“You fucked me over,” I started, bleeding into the pain I felt for months. “You fucked me up. And yet, you come back every time. Why? Why do you insist on doing this to me?” His response may have been the most honest thing he’s ever said, and that terrified me. In one breath, he shattered my soul. “You let me.”