fuck you, i love you, i said as i was kicked out of the apartment. a week before, we traveled to japan. it was our first time there. true heaven. we lived together in a small hotel room. it was a beautiful town on japan’s west coast. we ate sushi, drank sake, and made love, but we would fight all the time. i guess it was their ego versus mine by now and we both thought we were the next coming of Christ. that was our problem. it was possibly the greatest week of my life. then we split up. we met in person one last time. i presented a painting i did of her and she cried. a week later she messaged me and accused me of stealing her jewelry. people always told me to never date an artist … then who’s supposed to date me? mary?