Differently broken. That’s a good way to put it, a good footnote in the chapter of reasons we didn’t work out. You were crushed, I was shattered. We knew hurt better than we knew ourselves, but one fractured heart can’t always heal another one. One flavor of misery won’t always blend with another one.
We crashed into each other and basked in the warmth of that comfort and new familiarity. But we needed space to heal. I needed room to put the pieces back together, you needed time to stitch yourself back up. We smothered each other in love, filled to the brim with good intentions, but still we were smothered. We were two crippled victims of long-ago poor choices, and we couldn’t fix one kind of hurt with another one no matter how badly we wanted to.
I live to evolve and understand, and I grow frustrated when someone’s mind doesn’t swing open as wide as mine does. I need a lover who is patient and whose shield has not rusted out. You thrive on validation and require a rock-steady foundation of faith. You need a lover without cracks, someone whose innate personality will not tempt you to stray. You deserve a lover who is more than semi-functional on her best days.
Life has a funny way of twisting our stories together. The damaged souls, in particular, seem predisposed to needing one another. But our survival depends on us healing together, not healing each other. Forget the romance of it, forget the convenience. Becoming whole has a lot less to do with others than you might think. No one person can change it all, and I was stupid to think I could do that for you.