The Rest of Your Life :: You Didn't Even Make It a Year

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The Beginning :: The Point of This

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The point of this is simple. I still have so much to say, still feel so much, but can no longer say it to the only person that is meant to hear it. I can no longer reach out to you, in so doing I would only go from lucky, happy, loving fiancee to bothersome ex who simply can't let it go. It is likely that you will never read any of this, and perhaps that's for the best, but this at least allows me to say all the things swirling in my chaotic thoughts. A catharsis of the deeply bruised heart. 5 weeks ago you were smiling, laughing. We were making plans and making love. We were happy (or so it seemed... to everyone... and to me). 3 weeks after that we were to wed on the beach, you in the dress I was never allowed to see (but were so radiantly happy when you brought it home, bundled away from my anticipating eyes). 4 weeks ago you brought it all crashing down with no warning. A last-minute change of heart that you said had actually been building for a while. A pain that you ...
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We would have been married 2 years ago today. I would have cried trying to get my vows out. We would have met our friends and my family for dinner near the beach and I would have said the words "My wife" for the first time in my life. ... I doubt I come to mind for you very much at all anymore, but I still think of you at some point every single day. And that isn't hyperbole or exaggeration. Every. Single. Day. Of course, what I think is "You lying, cheating, fucking ungrateful cunt whore." but still, at some point, every day, you come to mind. It doesn't matter who I'm with, where I'm at, who I'm fucking or laughing with or playing video games with or swimming with or have riding next to me in the red car... whether I'm here or in California or New York...  if I'm with friends driving a Ferrari on the private test track in Italy... One way or another, you come to mind every day. And it's never pleasant. There is no happin...
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