I don’t understand how you have developed such a different view of reality over the years we’ve been together. How is it that you recount the same occurrence with such a different slant? How is it that you don’t even remember that I was there when telling that story?
I can’t fight this anymore. Your reality no longer matches mine. I guess this is what they mean when they say “we grew apart.”
Have the stories your way. I have taken the job in St. Paul and leave on Friday. I hope someday when you look back you’ll see that believing something is real doesn’t make it so. I can’t fix this, and I can’t carry it with me anymore. The pain is not mine if you lay your hand on the hot stove thinking it is a rock wall.