All I know is that you went on the pill. All I know is you were depressed and wanted to see your family so we sent you home. All I know is that you came back and wanted to be alone. All I know is that you loved me again as we packed up your house. All I know is that on October 3rd, you didn’t like me very much by the end of the day and just kinda ran with it.

And now, now I have no idea what to do. Everything is so beyond fucked. I don’t know that it is fixable. I don’t think I can ever trust you again.

It didn’t have to be this way. You have no idea how much I truly loved you. Once you thought I put on pedestals when it couldn’t have been further from the truth. I always saw through you, I just never said it. The reason I loved you as much as I did was because you were just too raw to really hide the ugly parts, even if you didn’t know it. I loved you not despite your flaws, I loved you because I understood them.

So tonight, I’ll put on a happy face and have dinner with a friend who’s sat through too much of my heartache as it is. Your anniversary present will sit on my alter, untouched. The bottle of stout I’ve been saving for a year will go undrunk. And tomorrow instead of waking up and fucking you, I’ll try and not think about you at all.

Happy Anniversary, Baby.