Burned it down, then wrote the eulogy.
You don't just survive an ending, you excavate it — every detail, every text you shouldn't have kept, every reason it mattered and every reason it probably shouldn't have. Where other people would rather forget and move fast, you'd rather understand, even if understanding means picking the wreckage apart in front of everyone. The devastation isn't performance for you; it's the only honest thing left once the polite version of the story finally runs out of road. You'd rather be accused of oversharing than of lying about how much it actually cost you to walk away. The Eye notes: the poetry isn't you dramatizing the pain. It's you refusing to let it go unrecorded.
Get your read — free on iPhoneRecording the wreckage is honest. It doesn't have to be the whole story forever.
What you're really doing when you excavate the wreckage in public.
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