Today, I don't mind so much that you are divorcing me. That you cut me out of your life after I built you and bought you socks and got you that fucking amp and went to every single one of your shows even when the band was shitty. I don't mind so much.
Yesterday? I minded a lot. I cried and cried, probably more in those 24 salty hours than I have in the 16 days since you told me you were leaving me because I'm mean and you just can't do it any more.
If you called me today and told me it was all a mistake, I would take you back in a heartbeat and the moment your skin touched mine, I would know it was a mistake and there I would be again. In that fucking marriage with you.
I have talked to you every day for the last six years and now you are so gone, so so so gone. And I just miss you so much. I miss you being there and hearing you and yeah even yelling at you. I miss that. I miss knowing that someone loved me, except let's face it. I never really knew that. I knew you loved music and I knew that you loved me taking care of you, taking care of things. You loved smoking pot, I know that. But me? I'm not sure how you ever really felt about me.
Those rings I took off and still look at everyday, well they protected me. They were a wall, bands of safety. They told the world someone loved me, it didn't matter how bad my hair looked or how much weight I gained, or the fact that basically I was going insane. It didn't matter because I had those rings and that meant I had you.
I still have the rings, yeah, but you are so so so gone. I wish you had let me have my fancy anniversary dinner. I wish I could have kissed you one more time. I wish that I hadn't been wrong.
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