It was hard. Physically and mentally. Your relationship with Matt could not be described by any word other than "destructive".

You met in a cold January, palm in palm, quiet giggles that were shared only between the two of you. Long sleepless nights, one mug of cocoa for two, and a list of films you wanted to watch together. And it was as if the whole world around no longer mattered.

This was the case until the end of January when Matt disappeared from your life. Without a word, he just evaporated into thin air, leaving behind a burning sensation inside, a kind of emptiness, and a desire to search, a desire to know what made him leave. You tried to call him, but it turned out that your number was blocked. This is how your February passed. A little nervously, a little teary-eyed, but you started to let go of the situation. You had known each other for only a month, you couldn't have gotten that attached to him in such a short period.

Until the last day of February when he appeared at your door. A little battered by life, with bags under his eyes and a tired gaze, but at the same time, he felt like the "finally" you had been looking for and finally found. Letting him into the walls of your apartment, having a conversation with him, you understood why he had acted that way. And you made a promise to each other never to close yourself off, never to leave without a reason, never to abandon each other.

The promise was broken three weeks later when Matt, in a fit of emotion after your small argument, disappeared. Again. Irrevocably, as if forever, without words. It felt ten times more painful than in January, if not worse. But, picking yourself up piece by piece, you decided to move on.

Sometimes your fingers would automatically open his Instagram account on your phone, even though you were blocked. And the inscription "user posts are unavailable" was like a bucket of ice water, reminding you of the reality in which you and Matt were no longer together, only apart, as if in different worlds.

But the history book on the shelf is always repeating itself, isn't it? At the beginning of May, he is here again. The same as ever, at your doorstep, just like at the beginning of spring. Apologizing, whispering vows, and you let him in again. Even with tears in your eyes, with a sore, practically shattered heart, you let him in. Because the whole world around doesn't matter when he's near, even if he's a little broken, but near. And you promise him again that you will be here, that you will help him overcome absolutely any difficulties, while he continues to swear to you that he will not leave again.