Perfection is what we make of it
You were perfection in my head. Everything I thought was good and perfect contained in a human shell I fell hopelessly in love with. You were my messiah, my Christ-figure.
You knew none of this.
You dealt with my pains and frustrations as a friends as I determined that you were the woman destined to me from the beginning of the universe. From letter, to pictures, to mix tape. The world passed by in a blur as I awaited the day where I could ask you to be with me forever.
You beat me to the punch.
"Because I love you" Your four word answer to why I should not go on a date. the four words I was convinced I would never hear. My life felt complete.
We planned, we shared our lives, we new we were destiny. Until you could not wait for me. Your upheaval, you change, proclaiming the distance was to much. I had already accepted a job on the other side of the country to be by your side. Your impatience cost you me, and stupidly I kept you in my life. But lovers can never be friends.
I should have cut all ties from you. Instead I have your voice branded into my memory claiming "That should be my child" and "No one ever touched me the way you did" Does your husband know you called me the night before your wedding? Does he know that he is compared to an unrealistic me that you try to confuse with the lies you told him about that "other guy"
I hope you are happy.
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