James
It had been two weeks since I had spoken to Becca. I still couldn't believe the moment I was leaving, she found comfort being able to just call it off with me.
Maybe I should have tried to force her to stay with me or something. I didn't know what the f*ck I was doing or thinking.
At the end of the day, I'd just let her go. I let her say goodbye to me. Even though it killed me, it was happening. I had done so much for her, and she didn't seem to want to make it work. She just wanted a way out, and as hurt as I was—I was angry.
No matter how many times I'd called, no matter how many times I texted her—nothing.
Only twice did she respond, and those were vaguely a conversation. Her response was just like the other times we'd aruged. She told me I had priorities I needed to situate
