I spent the last year wondering if he and I could have worked if it wasn't for distance. I wondered if he was moving on and if yes, how it was so easy for him to get the image of us out of his head long enough for it to last.

Sometimes, I'd imagine packing all my belongings and following him wherever he went. The next second I'd ask if he was thinking the same thought, which I knew wasn't true, and I'd go to bed angry at myself for even imagining a life based around him.

When I finally got tired of wondering, I sought closure from the person who hurt me the most: him.

I finally asked questions I thought would give me peace of mind and either lead us to get back together or to be able to heal and move on.

He managed to say everything I thought I wanted to hear, "I'm sorry I'm hurting you," "You deserve so much more than I've ever given you," and "I should have just treated you the way you told me to."

The worst I'd ever felt was hearing him say, "don't worry, I will never put you through this again. You don't deserve to feel like this." It took him saying that I was worth more than all the pain he continuously dragged me through to realize he was freeing me when I should have freed myself from the mental turmoil that I willingly walked back into repeatedly. I learned that there was nothing more I could ever do and that I'd drained myself so much for someone who would never appreciate what he had.

If I could go back and talk to myself as I struggled to decide if I should continue to wonder or ask for closure, I would decide to find the answers in his actions.

I healed myself repeatedly just to fall back into the same unhealthy patterns of our relationship.

Getting closure from my ex was painful. It reminded me of all the reasons we had broken up before. When seeing him, there was an undeniable feeling that everything had changed in a way that neither of us could bring back.

I couldn't force him to feel the same way he promised he'd always feel. I couldn't force myself into the role he wanted, the one where I pretended that him leaving, again and again, didn't kill me. We had been through so much in the four years that we spent loving and missing each other.

I had seen glimpses of the person I had grown to love in the time we were together. I also saw myself on those nights begging him to call me, to care that I was hurting or sick with grief for someone who was supposedly the love of my life.

I would have traveled the ends of the earth for him had I thought he would do the same for me.

I guess that's the problem with closure: you find out answers to questions you're finally brave enough to ask and the answers haunt you just as badly as the person's memory does.