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Analysis Of The Movie ' The Night '

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Six months. I can’t believe it’s been six months, and my stomach still turns when I see his car in the parking deck. Six months since I’m the one who chose to break it off, and yet I’m still this fucked up over it somehow. How can that be? He’s the one with the broken heart. He’s the one who fought so hard to keep me when I was determined to go, because I’m the kind of girl who makes up her mind and doesn’t change it. I’m the kind of girl who craves change, who leaves and never comes back, no matter how strong the temptation. Then again, I’m also the kind of girl who lets people get way too deep into her heart. I’ve been playing the beginning of this passage over and over in my head as I drove to this cafe, like an internal monologue. I even acted it out, like I was in one of the Netflix shows I’ve been binge-watching and losing sleep over. It’s probably getting unhealthy at this point. Funny; the first time I’ve written about the break up at all, and yet here I sit, in the same exact place, at the same exact table I ran to right after it happened. I came here to vent and cry about it to a friend who had been through the exact same thing, and was one of the biggest reasons I had the courage to leave in the first place. So it’s even funnier that I’m sitting opposite the seat I sat in that day. She at the bench, being strong and supportive, me in the rickety wooden chair, trying my best (and failing miserably) to keep the tears out of my eyes. Fairly recently, I assumed that

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