I try not to worry much. She gave me no reason to worry. I loved her as anybody she met did. Good person, she would volunteer at her local dog shelter every Saturday to help find the dogs a home. Like the dogs, she was loyal. To me in particular, and I never had to worry about wether she was cheating on me or not. I rarely worried. I loved her, and everything about her. Nothing thrilled me more than when I felt her scarlett lips touch my cracked and dry lips, or touching every inch of her body on the Fridays we’d spend together. About a year and a half into the relationship I started to worry. Her scarlett lips didn’t thrill me, my Fridays weren’t spent exploring her curves anymore. She had lost love for me. 3 months after, I confronted her about my feelings, she ended that day by asking for a break. She promised me that she would be there when the break was over. Everyday I felt my mind shrinking, trying to think of anything but her. She texted me, finally, she texted me. I look to my phone with high hopes in mind, only to see her confessing that she is bisexual and that she wants to explore that part of herself. But maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe if I had worried.