On this day,

exactly a year ago, I was happy. So happy. Why?

It was the first time he'd ever been publicly affectionate. He was marking his territory around my ex's friends. 6 months together, and this was one of the few times he'd ever done anything that would let a stranger assume we were a couple. And it felt so nice.

We were good together. Despite the occasional misunderstandings, we were good together. We looked cute together, we had some special moments together. Our private moments were the most intimate moments I've ever had with anyone. Passion, that's what it felt like. We were passionate about each other. My heart literally wanted to burst because I was so happy. To this day, I'm not sure why we ended.

The hard part about past relationships isn't just thinking about them and the mistakes you made. It's also trying to remember the bad things for what they really were. Especially if you end on good terms. No one wants to walk away from something they thought was so great with the worst of the memories. So yeah, maybe I'm deluded by the fact that I don't want to think about the bad stuff. The things is, I know what they were. But suddenly the bad stuff doesn't matter.

A while ago, I was hit with a revelation. For once we could talk and be objective because we weren't in a relationship. We talked about the day things ended, we talked about our feelings for each other. We talked about the problems in our relationship. Everything made sense.

But I know that if we had a chance to do it all over again, we wouldn't have let go so easily. I know he wouldn't have, and I know I wouldn't have.

On this day exactly one year ago, I was extremely happy. Now? I don't know what I am.