So what? I thought, scrolling. I needed more, to be hurt more. I wanted to see that they continued to cheat, that they were planning to run away together, that they wanted to kill me. I wanted lists of every flaw in my body, every way in which I was laughable and the object of their amused pity. It was all so ordinary and underwhelming. They were just two idiots in a mess, who kept convincing and then un-convincing one another of things. They weren’t star-crossed, just dithering, dependent people who couldn’t stay away from each other because they hadn’t worked out how to imagine anything
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