“I’m so ******* broken. Gather me up. Fix me.”

“C’Mon. Lets do this.”

And he did. And he did. And he did."

A million love songs later,

A thousand romantic movies later,

I realized,

I don’t really love you like that.

I love you like shattered glass.

I love you like that wound on my palm.

I love you like pain.

I love you in so many different ways.

I love you like a dead bird.

I love you like art absurd.

I love you like slit wrists.

I love you like that bottle of phenol.

I love you in so many destructive ways.

I love you like broken hearts.

I love you like crazy ***.

I love you like my cheap whiskey.

I love you like everything that isn't meant to be.

I love you in so many ***** ways.

But  I couldn't love you any less.

When the walls of the house know your secrets a little to well.
When the bathroom floor has been stained with your blood far too many times.
When you can start telling exactly how many times your ceiling fan rotates in a minute.
When the paint on the walls has peeled of in places and you know exactly when and how.
When the beds in your house have creaked a little too much.
When the toilet has flushed down too much of his alcohol and your *****.
When you’re afraid to call someone because you’re scared that they’ll see and they’ll know.

It is time to pack up.
Pack up and move.

We’ve always been two very different people.
Chalk and cheese.
Milk and Vinegar.
Wine and Whiskey.
Chaos and calm.

And you and I have known this all along.

I like to be gone most of time.
You like to be home most of the time.

We’re crazy. We’re cowardly. We’re erratic. We’re tired. And we’re quitters.

Again,

You and I have known this all along.

Yet.

You decided that you want me. And I want you.

We made a choice.

It wasn’t an easy one. It was going to be ******* difficult.

But WE made  choice.

You made it.

I made it.

And there’s a reason.

It’s a simple one

We saw something worth in this relationship. Something that two ****** up souls believed in.

Something that you and I thought was worth.

So love,

When you and I want to give up on this,

We think of the reasons why we decided to be together in the first place.

And we will heal. I promise. It will get better.

You and I are not mechanical. We’re both broken, hurt individuals who feel too much. Who think too much.

But you and I will plaster all of these cracks that we’ve been trying to. We’ll get there, love.

The very reason we started is the very reason that is going to keep us going.