Hazel Hayes

the idea that it might now be difficult for me to watch Star Wars – that I would for ever associate those films with this shitshow of a relationship – that stung.

I know you’re upset, and you have every right to be, because what you’ve just seen is both disgusting and heartbreaking. But I think we can all agree that you are better off without that sociopathic twat in your life. Also, for what it’s worth, he’s not okay. This is him acting out because he’s incapable of processing his emotions. You’ll deal with this. You’ll bounce back. He won’t.’

‘You were happy,’ Maya assured me. ‘You were fucking delirious. I saw it with my own two eyes. And things being shit now doesn’t erase all the good stuff. It still happened. Pain is just an inevitable part of life.’

How come he got to just move out and move on? He would never have to look at this stuff again or sit, like I am now, sorting through it all.

And so I prayed. Not to God – I don’t believe in God – I prayed to the only thing I knew I could rely on: myself. I begged myself to just get me through this night. I told myself that I would be good, I would be strong, and I would never let this happen again if I could just get through this night.

Eventually, loving someone becomes muscle memory.

ventually, loving someone becomes muscle memory. You don’t even notice it happening. One day you realise you’ve stopped living together and started existing near to one another. The path you once walked side by side has become two paths, which twist and wind their way around each other, occasionally intersecting long enough for a conversation full of clunky exposition that reveals nothing about the characters. You ask what time the other will be home from work, what they fancy for dinner, if they’ve remembered so and so’s birthday tomorrow. They tell you about their day with no humour or anecdotes, just a list of events in chronological order. You cook for two, buy toilet roll for two, book train tickets, sign cards and RSVP for two. Your autopilot gets set to two.

I can’t figure out if the relationship is causing my depression or if my depression is causing problems in the relationship.

decided to sort myself out. I found a new therapist and started seeing her every week, I took up yoga again, joined a book club and went out with friends more often. I said yes to every available writing job, no matter how big or small or ‘beneath me’ it seemed. I even worked for free for a while until finally, my writing started to pay the bills. I’m ashamed to admit that this new, can-do attitude was based entirely on a desire to make Theo love me again, but the outcome was that I now felt stronger and healthier and more sure that his problems existed with or without me.

Their parents didn’t care because the kids were quiet and content. This, I’ve discovered, is the nirvana every parent seeks: a happy, quiet child.