It’s funny, isn’t it? Love is supposed to be the one universal force that draws people together, two souls tortured by separation until they find one another and everything magically falls into place. It was at first. We were ethereal; when we were together we floated above anything and everything because time stood still while we were looking into each other’s eyes. Then we fought. Then we fought a lot. But then we would make up too. And no matter what happened you said that you would love me forever, that I would always be your Rose. I can’t believe I fucking showed you that book. That meant to much to me, and you’ve used it against me so many times and now that you don’t even want “us” to be an us, you’re always going to still remember that fucking book and the sweet things that it made us both cry over. Now I’m stuck with all of the words that you used to say, that you said one time, while you’re out there somewhere with all the pieces in front of you and so much to do, so many people to do. How am I supposed to do anything? You were my everything. Every fucking thing I see reminds me of you. I have to physically force myself not to cry every single time I listen to music now. You learned how to play “The Living Room Song” by The Wonder Years for me. I listened to them for the first time in weeks last night, and I felt like I was going to throw up. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. All I can do is fucking cry, smoke, and drink.
Whatever I was before this, it’s gone now.
I’m a shell.
I am nothing.
I hope you’re happy. I really do hope you have a great fucking life.
You’ve managed to break my heart all over again, and this time there’s nothing I can do.
I guess I’ll talk to you some other time, then.
You’ll find plenty of people better than me anyway.
I don’t know what I’m doing. I didn’t want to get drunk until you told me about that. And then I wasn’t okay until three tall beers and three glasses of wine.
I miss you so much it hurts.
I hope you had a great time with her tonight, I really do. So while you’re both curling up to each other watching a movie and falling asleep, I’m alone, drunk in my bed, writing about you but not being able to say shit.