For the last five years, I haven’t liked anyone. I used to not believe myself when I said that. I wondered if I was lying, had I forgotten someone, or was I repressing something. Then this past winter I met someone. I experienced a month of dates, snuggles, hand holding, and whispering secrets I don’t even share with best friends. The contrast in feelings proved to me I hadn’t been lying: I hadn’t liked anyone for half a decade.

And suddenly I did.

Due to a host of reasons, some inevitable and some that I will save for future blogpost rants, things ended. The fracture came abruptly. It took my breath away. We briefly rekindled what may be called a sequel or a spinoff, but like most sequels, it flopped.