When I was with you I thought our love could survive anything, and I was mostly right. It survived the time you cheated on me, and the time you found the open letters I wrote about you cheating on me. Even though I feel like we’ve been through it all, it couldn’t survive the five-foot-tall avian predator that gobbled you up on our study abroad trip.
I always wanted to be with someone who also enjoyed laughing. When I found out you were passionate about traveling the exotic and mysterious world we live in too, I knew I found a partner for life, so we registered for the same study abroad trip to Canada.
You were a rebel. I always liked a bad boy. We were 20 years old and drank (legally) to our heart’s content in Montreal. You were throwing rocks at birds while muttering things like, “fuck New Orleans” and “fuck Anthony Davis.” I’ll never forget the grace you threw them with. I knew in that moment you earned those 5th grade softball trophies on your dresser.
Not a full minute passed before a pelican waddled up to us and slurped you down like a Hollister-scented Spaghetti-O. I was heartbroken, but I learned something that day.
I learned no matter how hard my life gets I can still make money with open letters for other girls to relate to. If just one person relates to my story about the love of my life being eaten by a bird with the wingspan of an SUV, then the ad money will be worth it.
To the pelican that ate my love, my boyfriend may be in your gullet, but he’ll always be in my heart.
The Byzantine 