Crash Test

by Amy James

I wish someone had warned me that breakups were like this. It isn’t something that happens to you once. It’s something that happens over and over again every time you have to explain it, and it’s just as painful every time.

“There’s nothing you can do to make things better,” he says. “Every week will just get a little less shit, until one day you wake up and you don’t remember quite what the pain felt like.”

If you want something, and it’s within the realms of reality that you can get it, then you need to do something about it.

“If you wait for everything in your life to be perfect before you take action, then you’ll be waiting forever. If you want something, and it’s within the realms of reality that you can get it . . .” “You need to do something,” I

“Maybe he is happy. Or maybe he’s miserable. Or maybe he’s happy some of the time, and miserable some of the time, and in-between some of the time, like most human beings are.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, holding up his hands. “Was I making you uncomfortable? Because if I’d known I was making you feel bad, I would’ve realized it and stopped.” Okay, that felt pointed. “It’s fine,” I mutter awkwardly. “No, really,” he says. “If I’d realized I was being a huge asshole, and making someone feel really badly for months and months and months, I would’ve thought to myself, Hey, maybe I shouldn’t be such an asshole—”