I Let You Go

by Clare Mackintosh

Gradually, without my noticing, my grief has changed shape; from a raw, jagged pain that won’t be silenced to a dull, rounded ache I’m able to lock away at the back of my mind. If it is left there, quiet and undisturbed, I find I’m able to pretend that everything is quite all right. That I never had another life.

I had never understood the appeal of animals, particularly domestic dogs and cats, who leave hair everywhere and demand walks and affection and company.

BIG RED FUCKING FLAG 🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩

I hadn’t asked you to live with me in order to spend my evenings sitting on my own. I had already been taken for a fool by one woman—I

normalise exposing men online when you break up naming them in full so the next victim can look them up properly. Website idea: thesmallestfuckingmanwhoeverlived.com

I denied anything was wrong: first because I was too blinded by love to see the cracks in my relationship, and later because I was too ashamed to admit that I had stayed for so long with a man who hurt me so much.