I had been plotting my escape from Valeria for many months before I actually did it. Maybe she was plotting as well, each of us secretly planning our way out. We were both exhausted from our near daily drama, like a marathoner in mile 25, but with no finish line. The fights had lost any real meaning. We were fighting because that’s what we did. Their only purpose was to provide the toxic nourishment that fuels dysfunctional relationships.