I didn't want to buy a house by myself, move by myself, get fucked over by plumbers and contractors alone. I guess that's why I threw a wrench in the works, insisting upon an improbable addendum 12 days before we close.
I didn't want to live in his apartment, where there is no space for any of my things. I guess that's why I'm not looking forward to the impossible prospect of unpacking the things that were supposed to go into our house.
I didn't want a transatlantic relationship. I guess that's why I'm crying like we're falling down an inevitable cliff, breaking up all the way down.