I never knew where we stood. I would tell myself that I did, I could fool myself but I guess I always expected that you would leave me. In the back of my mind I knew the whole thing was a mistake but you were always there when I closed my eyes. When your fucking tattoo artist was acting weird and you let slip that you guys used to bang I should have just left, but I was convinced I'd just be alone again.
The past few years have been hard. There's a space between us and it's just grown and grown and now we can't reach each other over the gap. It's ironic that I failed that interview to get a different job to fix this because everything imploded anyway.
Every time I feel the space on my finger where the ring was my stomach does a little flip. I'm nauseous and I'm dizzy and I'm so scared of being alone in this house, but what else is there to do? We've done this before but I think there's no going back this time. It doesn't matter that you kept telling me I was perfect because I wasn't, and we both know it, and while I can work on my anger and my bitterness and try to communicate how I'm feeling, I can't just FIX everything about me.
I still remember what you wore to our first date that you insisted wasn't a date. I remember trying to make small talk and pesto cheese bread zombie dicks and sunshine on your hair. I remember how nervous we both were the day we got engaged because we both knew what was coming. I don't think I can go back to the Ringling. I don't think I can go back to Busch Gardens. Who's going to tell me about roller coaster manufacturers? Who's going to tell me to have a good day at work? Who am I going to ask if we need dumb things at home goods?
But who's going to draw away when I try to kiss them? Who's going to stay out all night with their friends, who's going to not come home? Who's going to tell me that my work stress is ruining me and also that they can't handle being told about it? Who's going to tell me they want kids, and help come up with names, and then change their mind after we're married? Who's going to tell me the only way we could make it work is if I left my parents all by themselves as they get older and I've TALKED with you about how anxious my mom's memory problems make me, and you flat-out tell me we have to move to Cali or New York or something and nobody can afford that. My sister already left them; I can't. I can't just leave them and fuck you for issuing these ultimatums.
I can't even work up the
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