BREAK!

I crashed my boyfriend's car, and he broke up with me.

He broke up with me! I couldn't believe it!

No one has ever broken up with me!

My heart was wounded.

I can't.

I don't blame him.

I was high on pills, and I honestly didn't have to admit that.

I said it because I have a guilty conscience. Even in the presence of a GOOD Mormon who inspires me, I cannot shake my drug addiction. I'd rather be high on Klonopin than NOT. I was high on 8 pills when I crashed his car... When I was talking to the police... When I was talking to him. The main thing I remember is that it wasn't a big deal.

It was a booty crash!

A fender bender.

Whoopty Doo!

I know a Mexican,

That will happily "ting" that out for $75.

He wasn't having it. I crossed the line. I was unconscious and my mess of a life was pouring into his. He had boundaries. He had standards, and he said no more.

As devastating as I thought the breakup was, it thought me something I'll recognize for the rest of my life: Your joy is not in man, but in you.