Go ahead babe, talk about me. Tell everyone your own fucked up story. I don’t think I know you now. From what I’ve heard you like to tear me down. And I want you to be happy, cause that’s what you deserve. If you want me to be unhappy, well that just fucking hurts. You used to call me “baby come over” now I’m the worst person alive.

This song is a bit too melodramatic for even me, that’s really saying something. Somewhere in here is an interesting thought though, about how when two people go their separate ways they both have their own experience of how things happened, their own story.

More often than not I don’t believe either side of the story completely, I think the truth lies where it usually does, somewhere in the middle.

When my ex and I went our separate ways last year I know she said some fucked up things about me, to the point I genuinely felt like over the course of a week this person was now a stranger, someone I didn’t know and hardly recognized. I won’t say she was tearing me down, but she certainly wasn’t building me up either.

I wish I realized then what I realize now. If she felt the relationship had run its course, fine. I just want her to be happy, she does deserve it, despite the fact that I believe almost everyone deserves to be happy, I especially think she deserves to be happy. She loves unconditionally, and unreasonably. People like that are not common anymore and those people especially deserve to be happy.

When we were fresh in the break up and me fresh in my mental breakdown, she started seeing someone else. As much as I had a hard time with it then, I stand by what I said now. She deserves to be happy and if that’s what makes her happy, so be it. It was different then, then I thought she was doing it because she didn’t care if I was happy or not, because she didn’t think I deserved to be happy, and because she thought I was really the worst person in the world.

It’s crazy how when you meet someone you don’t know what role they’re gonna play in your life, you go from strangers, to flirty friends, to lovers, to what I thought was the one, back to strangers, all over the course of 7 years or so.

Sometimes things like what I mentioned in the above paragraph make me think I don’t have what it takes to live in this world, to deal with that pain.

God damn it rips me up inside.

Where the skies are gold not gray, J.