Luisa Irizarry

My Dog Will Always Be the Third Spoon

It was July 29th, 2015 when my whole word changed. I was running late for work, exhausted from the depression that had taken over me and rushing to a job that made me miserable. I was fuming over my latest argument with my fiancé, James. A classic "cover up" argument where we are arguing about the dishes but really we were getting married on our first year anniversary in just a few days. Things kept getting hostile as the day drew closer. We both hoped the other would call it off and neither wanted to admit to failure. Me coming out of a physically, emotionally, and mentally abusive relationship jumped at the opportunity to be head over heels in love with someone safe. James, coming out of his own baggage, jumped at the chance to finally live happily ever after. We didn't listen to the warnings, we were stubborn and now we were facing the reality of the decision we made.