So, August 28th was pretty much the worst day of my life. Sure, I almost got killed in a car accident in 2000 and other bad shit has happened to me over the past 31-years, but that day in late August stands by itself as the worst of them all.
That was the day she left. There wasn't a fucking thing I could do to stop her. Just stand there in confusion, wonderment, rage and pain, watching her move everything that she owned out of our house and load it into the back of the pick-up her father borrowed from a buddy in Michigan.
Now, I've lost people that I've loved before. But none of them, fuck, all of them combined doesn't equal the pain I got from this one. The others that beat feet, they at least were still in the same city/town/village and there was a damn good chance that I'd run into them someplace. Not her though. She had to move back to the fucking hand state of Michigan.
And then there's the fact that she would call me at night when she couldn't sleep to see how I was doing. Those times were the highlights of my days after she left. Now though, she wont even return text messages.
I'll send her a text, maybe once a week or so, that just says "hi. hope you're well. would love to hear your voice soon." And she can't even as much tell me she's busy. Or return the text the next day or a few days later.
It seems that she wants me completely out of her life. Which is complete bullshit seeing how she up and left without so much as a whisper of a warning.
Out the door one morning for work she went, when she came home 6 hours later, mommy and daddy were with her ready to move their little girl back to Michigan.
Fucking shit.
Maybe she didn't realize that love and relationships weren't the fairy tale that everybody and their fuckin mama dream about. Maybe she was scared because I told her that I wanted to marry her someday. Maybe she was bored with me. Maybe she wanted to live like the 22-year old slut bags that she called her "bestest's". Who knows. I never will.
The thing is, I realize that she's gone and she wont be coming home. And that she knows that if she ever decided to come back, the door would be open and she could have the over sized closet to store her outrageous amount of clothing in, back. And she knows that I still love her, without a doubt, more than anything in this great giant city of Chicago.
But she doesn't know that....
Yeah, she probably does. She knew it all. Like how certain it was that we would eventually breal up anyway, so why not speed the process up and get it done then when she left. And she knew that I would eventually hit her, because her cousin is married to a douche bag who hits her. And she knew that we would never be happy again like we were the first six months we dated because her mom and dad got a divorce because they couldn't get along.
That might just be the fucking problem though. Her mommy. Her mommy says to jump, she asks how high. Her mommy says to go and shit, she asks if it should be hard, soft or medium feeling shit.
I still love her to death. I still find myself thinking about her every chance that I get. I still follow everything that she wanted me to do in our house: towels can't touch each other while hanging in the bathroom, vaccuum every other day, scrub the kitchen floor after cooking dinner each night, wash the kitchen table after every meal has finished.
Those things might sound silly to you, but they're the only thing I got of her.
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