Three years today, I had experienced the worst day of my life. Which had then continued to turn into the worst month of my life. Quite honestly, it changed me into a bitter person, and yet a better person.

Before I go on, however, I would like to say that although this was caused by one person, I no longer have any ill intent or feelings about them. Other than the heart-sink feeling whenever I hear the name, or see a picture. Stuff like that still exists for a couple people in my life.

I have a very large draft written about this experience, but I’ve never gotten around to finishing it. Mainly because it hurt too damn much to recall the details of what happened. Perhaps someday I may be able to return to it, and bring myself to post it.

Whatever.

The gist of this is: I got broken up with. It was a very awful break up. The day after a wedding. On the east coast of the country. We still had to live together for a month, because I was granted a period of time before she moved out where I could become financial stable by myself. Which is nice, and terrible simultaneously.

Shit happens. It’s been three years since that day, and I’ve moved on in an extraordinary way. Yet, there’s something that bothers me on a bone marrow-deep level. My core still burns inside when reflecting on this day. I honestly don’t understand why. There’s typically very little that I can’t 100% let go; I can count them on one hand.

Maybe it’s just the fact that, that’s the day that set me onto the path that I’m still on today. Life changing experiences tend to stick with you, I suppose. Anyway. I wanted to post something about it, because this is the first time I’ve ever experienced an annual “depression”(?) It’s not a sad thing, it’s just a… wow. Thing… And that I’ve never posted about it before.