On or about this day two years ago, my heart was (figuratively) ripped out of my chest. The love of my life said to me, "I feel like after six months I should know if I want to marry you. And I don't know yet if I want to marry you, so let's break up." Or something to that effect. No amount of begging, pleading, crying, or even logic, would sway him. I just couldn't believe that this relationship that, to me, was all that was good and the way a relationship should be, could seem so opposite to him. That was the end, and thus began a complete teardown and rebuild of the thing known as ME.
