My loved ones, the ones still bothering to try and ‘save’ me, kept saying that later on I’d see that they were right, and I’d thank them. That I’d look back and be shocked at how blind I was to how bad she was for me.
I kept telling them that she made me happy, that I didn’t care what they said, what they thought, that I knew her and I were meant to be together, and we’d be happy.
Didn’t work out that way, of course, but not because they were right about her.
I was wrong about me.