The opening notes of a song began, some plucking of guitar strings. I knew the melody. It was Maroon 5’s “She Will Be Loved.” As pop songs went, it was pretty damn good, a bit of a favorite of mine.

Yeah, you’re right. I’m a real misunderstood sweetheart.

No one else has ever meant what you do to me. Please, just … just, come back with me and stay. For good.

Love was truly one of life’s mysteries. That it could fuck you five ways to Sunday and still remain so utterly perplexing and unknown was kind of impressive. I guess it all depends on how you look at it.

Fun times. Broken hearted people really did need to just be left the fuck alone. We’re not suitable company for anyone.

He’d smashed my heart, thrown me out, and moved on with being the rock ’n’ roll bad boy.“Fuck him,” I whispered.

Self-respect, self-preservation, both of these things. And because you being willing to put up with my love is not good enough. Not even remotely. I’m not going to be your regular live-in fuck buddy, Jimmy, exclusive or not. Your whole offer is soul destroying.

My broken heart had been taped and glued to perfection. And all of these things were gone.They had to be gone so I could face the future and put him in the past.

I was only twenty-five, much to young to die. Probably about the right age to become a complete hypochondriac, however.