When upset, she would always clutch her stomach protectively. She acted as if our relationship were inside her like a baby, and that clutching the baby would stop me from telling the truth. She thought it would stop me from telling her what she didn't want to hear. In the middle of an argument once, I stared down at her stomach, waiting for her to clutch it. She didn't. I knew she had given up. She was tired of hearing what no one else cared enough to tell her. She lost me. But the worst part was, she never actually had me in the first place. She had that baby. She had the feelings. She never had the person. She had how I made her feel. And now she's left with no one, because every relationship before ours was just as much a baby. She is alone.