I have gone over how it ended over and over in my head and I have come to a shocking realization. Its not my fault. I gave that part of my life my everything but it ending was not my fault. I rearranged the alphabet to but I and U together but somewhere along the way I out U before I. That is my fault. With everything thats been going on with me physically and emotionally, that is the worst thing I could have done. I had put you and your happiness before me and my basic medical needs time and time again. Can we just talk about how ****** that is? I put someone else’s happiness above my own health. I can remember times where I would be having heart problems but I kept quiet as to not impose on her fun. I stopped doing so much of what I loved in order to do what she loved. None of this is her fault, these are choices I made. Thats the issue. I made these choices. I put U before I. But now im going to go back and make this **** alphabetically correct and put I before U. Thats how it always should have been.

Why do I still want my ex back? She treated me like **** after we broke up. I needed her, not like I need a snack. No, like a drowning man needs air. Why do I want her back? I have a beautiful, exotic, compassionate girl pining after me. But I just cant get over her. I know how awful she treated me. I know how much damage she did to me and how I have just started to get better from it. I know all of this. But yet I am choosing the one who hurt me nearly beyond repair over the **** swimmer who is completely enthralled by me. What the **** is wrong with me? I have so many great things going for me. I got the job. I got my health improved. I have girls chopping at the bit for me. I am finally doing what made me happy again. I am finally dancing like no body is watching when ******* every body is watching. I love it. But something is missing. The girl that broke my heart is missing. Because she still ******* has my heart. Thats so ****** up. This is not some game of finders keepers. I should not be the loser weeping.  But yet for some ******* reason I still want her to be by my side through it all. Why the **** do I feel like I need her? I am such a better person without her. I can see that. Everyone can see that. But I still want her. Why. Why Why Why. Why do I hurt myself like this. I am fully aware I am hurting myself. But pain has never smelled so sweet. I keep trying to change who I am so I can trick myself into not needing her. I even changed how I smell for fucksake. I used to smell vaguely of apples. Now I smell like some manly ****** pine forest. I have had two women in my life hurt me to a point where I almost need to be institutionalized. Yet those two women are the most important women in my life. But yet I cant ******* let her go. Because no matter how much harm she does. I can not stay away. The good will ALWAYS out weigh the bad.

Is the glass half empty or half full?

Full does not matter and empty need not apply because I smashed the glass on the floor into a million glittering pieces.

Why am I writing this? Because you were my glass. My fragile, delicate glass ballerina. The kind you see in those antique shop that have existed longer than time itself. Just sitting in that glass cabinet next to the ancient cash register gathering dust. Only you are not gathering dust, you are going out, you are going out and being social. You are going out and being the one thing you have lately, or maybe not so lately, have not been with me. Happy.

I completely acknowledge that this is my own doing. I was the one viewing you as a dusty antique, not as a beautiful hand-blown figurine composed of the rays of the sun. When you said you needed some time apart a part of me was ripped out. Not because I did not seeing it coming, but because I had seen it coming for such a long time. Like a train wreck that my eyes were surgically stitched to. Like the old light house keeper that seeing a storm brewing on the horizon but warns no one in the town below. Because nothing he does, and sure as hell nothing he says will stop it from forming nor will stop it from tearing down everything that had been built up. Secretly I am the old lighthouse keeper. I hope this storm knocks over the light house along with the feelings I have, not had, but still have for you. Not because I do not want these feelings but because every time I think back you me saying “I love you” and you saying “I love you too” it feels like meat hooks being dug into my very being. Mine are still genuine with the same feeling of “I love you” but yours, I know yours do not mean the same anymore. I want that light house to be nothing but a memory because these feelings, these emotions are tearing me apart. I tried to move on. I tried to be happy. But the only way I saw Happy and myself coexisting was with you between us.

I have been wearing the comedy mask in everything you see as to not let the tragedy mask show my true colors. That’s the funny thing, as far as William Shakespeare was concerned the only difference between a comedy and a tragedy was whether or not the protagonist survived. Your story, this story, will remain a comedy because the protagonist lives on while, me, the antagonist is left one stiff breeze from toppling off the edge of a seven story building.

I am sorry, I know the feeble words of man mean nothing but as of now that is all I can give you as I swallow these broken shards of glass. To me it does not matter if the glass is half empty, half full, one third full, three fourths empty, or anything else. Because my glass is gone. No longer gathering dust on a shelf, but out showing the world how much she truly shimmer.