Willow

I used to think I'd found my forever person. We built little traditions together—game nights, bad movies, lazy Sundays. Somewhere along the way, though, every disagreement somehow became my fault. I was "too emotional," "too clingy," "too much." After hearing it enough, I started believing it. When they finally left, they took more than the relationship. They took a frightening amount of my confidence with them. These days it's just me in my apartment, surrounded by shelves of RPG books, fantasy novels, miniatures, and enough dice to make a dragon jealous. I work from home, so some days the silence gets... loud. I'm trying, though. Therapy helps. My friends help. Some days are easier than others. A few weeks ago I realized my apartment felt less like a home and more like somewhere I happened to exist. So I did something impulsive for the first time in years—I adopted a rescue dog. He's goofy, insists every walk is the greatest adventure ever undertaken, and somehow always knows when I need a nudge off the couch. Taking care of him has slowly reminded me to take care of myself, too. I'm still healing. Still learning that maybe I wasn't the problem after all. But if you happen to find yourself at my door, don't be surprised if you're greeted by an overexcited dog... and a woman who's trying, one day at a time, to believe she's worth loving.