Today, you took me on an emotional roller coaster ride of epic proportions. You weren't even here. I didn't hear your voice, speak your name, or read a text (most likely because my phone is dead and I'm pretty sure at the other house, but that's okay, because I have no intentions of answering it tonight anyway.).
I went through all our stuff.
Do you remember Labor Day weekend? When I came to see you and get "necessities" and things I didn't want in the storage unit to get moldy? REMEMBER WHEN I CRIED AND SAID IT FELT LIKE WE WERE GETTING A DIVORCE AND YOU LAUGHED AND TOLD ME NOT TO BE SILLY?
Remember? Fuck you.
All of this stuff I have (and it is just stuff, and if I didn't need it, I'd fucking burn it) is a reminder of our life together. I don't care if it's a stupid cup - I need cups. My couch became our couch, and it's still my couch, but it's not yours anymore. Wedding pictures - fuck you, seriously. Our wedding banner that my "friend" who favors you through all this bullshit quilted for us - fuck you. What do I do with this stuff? I can't handle it today.
I had kitten-punching, puppy-punting, HULKSMASH rage today because of you.
Congratulations on your promotion, by the way. Thanks for calling me to thank me for supporting you through the years, that you could have done it without me. Fuck you for not including us on your Facebook "shout-out".
What do I do with all this stuff you gave me? The dishes from Iraq? The vases? My bouquet I had artfully preserved and framed?
How do you sleep in our bed every night?
Don't get it twisted - I don't want you back.
I'm just curious.
I sleep with a clear conscience.
I don't know how you do.
PS - Quinn had a great Christmas playing with the tattoo you got instead of presents.
Oh Kelly. I love you.
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