It's a vicious cycle. One we've played through time and time again. We fight, we break up, we go without each other for a while and everything seems fine. Then all of a sudden one of us hits a bump in the road and comes running back into the arms of the familiar comfort we each hold. We make up and everything is a fairy tale again, until it isn't. Cycle restarts.

I think it's safe to say that most of us have been here before. We meet that person that completes us and makes our heart feel this fiery warmth that we've only seen on the movie screens. The kind of love that completely consumes every part of you. That person becomes so familiar that it's like they're an extension of you, an extra limb. This is a wonderful feeling, that is, until it doesn't work anymore. Or until you realize that it was all just a lie. That person leaves, or you leave, and you're left with this empty feeling. The feeling of missing something, a part of you. You've forgotten what it felt like to be without said person, without that ever lasting feeling of familiar comfort.

In my case, it ended suddenly. We just didn't mesh together like we used to. Well, that and the fact that he was addicted to cheating, but the other thing too. It was hard when it came to an end. For the first time in a long time I was alone. I really wasn't sure who to turn to when things got hard. In the past, I would automatically turn to him. I would pick up the phone and dial that number that was burnt into my memory and unload all my problems. It wasn't that I needed advice or for him to say anything, I just needed him to listen. And he always did. It was that feeling of comfort that brought me back to dialing that number, even though I said I wouldn't, time and time again.

I would have my moments of feeling strong. I would tell myself that I could do this and that the feeling of not having him was freeing. I would tell myself that I had plenty of friends to call when times got tough, but it just wasn't the same. He knew the things that I told no one else. The things that I wasn't ready to repeat to another. So naturally, he was the easiest to talk to when those hard times came knocking.

I feel the pain.

I try to fight it.

I fail.

I dial the number.

This happened for both of us. Always running back to that familiar comfort. We would talk about out heartache until we could force a laugh. Then the reminiscing would start and that always led to the killer question: Should we try again? We always did. Every single time one of us made that call we would end back up in that terrible cycle. But only for a few weeks. We would always reach that point. The point where we hit that wall built of the many reasons we called it quits. Then we yell and scream a little bit and swear to never run the cycle again. But we did.

It took me a while to understand truly how toxic he, and that cycle, was. Every single time it ended I felt worse than when we started. The minor problem I would call about was far less painful than what I felt when the cycle ran its course again. No matter how much will power it was going to take to stop it all, I had to do it.

So tonight as I feel the pain that has led me back to you a million times before, I do something different. Sure, I may cry into my pillow for a while listening to our song and thinking about what might have been, but I'll feel that pain alone. Tonight, I end our cycle. Tonight, I end us.