It almost killed me in my senior year when I believed I was broken.
It had to be my fault for not liking anyone as everyone else did. I was different. Bad different. I had had a boyfriend for a year. We kissed. I didn't like it. He held my hand, whispered I love you's in my ear, took me on dates. I felt trapped. I wanted to escape. So I tried.
I'm sorry you had to find me on the bathroom floor.
YOU ARE READING
#no romo
Short StoryA short story about aromanticism. || TRIGGER WARNING: SLIGHT MENTIONS OF SUICIDE/DEPRESSION ||
