Never again, they gave us two shots to the back of the head and we’re all dead now.

June 4, 2007 - March 3, 2008

Over. Just like that. Disposable, just like always. I don't know why I thought this time would be different. It's always the same. It always fucking hurts the same. I was kidding myself when I seemed to take it okay yesterday and set the picture of him I had in my car on fire and proceded to blow $100 of 'our' apartment savings. Woke up this morning in tears, drove to work in tears, bawled in the bathroom twice, drove home in tears.

I honest to fucking GOD thought he was it. He was IT. We had a future and a house with a studio and kids and pets in my head. I NEVER HAD THOSE THOUGHTS BEFORE. From being persistent as shit coming over and calling and texting me, BEGGING me to be with him to "Bre, I don't wanna date you anymore. I don't have time for a relationship right now and I don't wanna see you anymore anyway" in the fucking blink of an eye. Or so it seemed to me, anyway. And how he made it seem so... meaningless. It fucking KILLED me inside. 'I don't wanna date you anymore'? As far as I knew, this wasn't a casual fucking fling. Last time I checked, you were planning on fucking MARRYING me. Then nothing? Just like that?

"Bre, you're so pretty. Just give me a chance. I know you can probably be poopy, and I know I can be pretty poopy, but don't break my heart. I feel so good when I'm around you."

WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO THIS?!? I kept my promise, but it's okay for you to just THROW MY FUCKING HEART IN A GODDAMN MEAT GRINDER LIKE THIS?!?! I may have been fucking wasted at the time, but I memorized every goddamn syllable because that was the first time anyone ever truly made my heart melt. And now nothing. Just like that. Who fucking BAILED YOU OUT OF JAIL with all the goddamn money in her bank account because she wasn't gonna let you fucking sit there in Coupeville? ME. And I would do it a million times over, because I'm SO FUCKING IN LOVE WITH YOU, YOU ASSHOLE! And nothing EVER changed on my end! Not even now!

Over. Just like that. Today would have marked nine months.

Text message dated May 30th, 2007: "Why do girls find it necessary to play games with me? My fucking feelers have had it."

Fuck you. You have broken my heart, Mr. Burgundy. You have broken my heart.