I sat on the floor of my now empty apartment, I didn’t realize how a person’s toothbrush no longer next to the sink could make the room feel empty. I was glad she left, I loved her enough to endorse her staying away from me. She was not my soulmate or some romanticized figure, but she loved me and I had taken that for granted. I did not want to forget but I did, I figured letting go was the last chance I had to do one thing right for her. I promised myself if it took years that one day I’m going to find the partner of my dreams and this mental illness will not be an excuse for me, and that I would not be a tool for it to ruin that. That was 7 years ago, I now live on the same block as that tiny apartment and it’s a humbling reminder every time I look out the window that I never want to have to forget someone I love again.