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" I was told
The average girl begins to plan her wedding at the age of 7
She picks the colors and the cake first
By the age of 10 
She knows time,
And location
By 17
She’s already chosen a gown
2 bridesmaids
And a maid of honor
By 23 
She’s waiting for a man
Who wont break out in hives when he hears the word “commitment”
Someone who doesn’t smell like a Band-Aid drenched in lonely
Someone who isn’t a temporary solution to the empty side of the bed
Someone
Who’ll hold her hand like it’s the only one they’ve ever seen
To be honest
I don’t know what kind of tux I’ll be wearing
I have no clue what want my wedding will look like
But I imagine
The women who pins my last to hers
Will butterfly down the aisle
Like a 5 foot promise
I imagine
Her smile
Will be so large that you’ll see it on google maps
And know exactly where our wedding is being held
The woman that I plan to marry
Will have champagne in her walk
And I will get drunk on her footsteps
When the pastor asks
If I take this woman to be my wife
I will say yes before he finishes the sentence
I’ll apologize later for being impolite
But I will also explain him
That our first kiss happened 6 years ago
And I’ve been practicing my “Yes”
For past 2, 165 days
When people ask me about my wedding
I never really know what to say
But when they ask me about my future wife
I always tell them
Her eyes are the only Christmas lights that deserve to be seen all year long
I say
She thinks too much
Misses her father
Loves to laugh
And she’s terrible at lying
Because her face never figured out how to do it correctly
I tell them
If my alarm clock sounded like her voice
My snooze button would collect dust
I tell them
If she came in a bottle
I would drink her until my vision is blurry and my friends take away my keys
If she was a book
I would memorize her table of contents
I would read her cover-to-cover
Hoping to find typos
Just so we can both have a few things to work on
Because aren’t we all unfinished?
Don’t we all need a little editing?
Aren’t we all waiting to be proofread by someone?
Aren’t we all praying they will tell us that we make sense
She don’t always make sense
But her imperfections are the things I love about her the most
I don’t know when I will be married
I don’t know where I will be married
But I do know this
Whenever I’m asked about my future wife
I always say
…She’s a lot like you "

Please come back

Let’s run away together. Start over. Pretend like nothing bad ever happened. We’ll do everything you always wanted to do and I’ll never say “no”. I’ll tell you I love you every day and never forget to kiss you goodnight. I’ll hold your hand in public and in private. I’ll always tell you the truth even if it hurts. I’ll rub your back when it’s sore and brush your hair back from you face while you’re sleeping, just so I can look at you for one last second before I realize that another day with you has ended. That the next best day of my life is coming in the morning. I am nothing without you and you are everything to me.

I’m sorry I fucked it all up but maybe we can start over. Maybe we can rebuild what we had, make it even better, bigger, grander, larger than life even.

Until then I’ll think about you before I fall asleep and when I wake up, remembering what it was like when everyday of my life was the best day of my life.

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I miss my two cats. I miss my home. I miss my friends. I miss you.

I had the world and I threw it away.

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He lead a trite and meaningless life. He was too lazy to extend his arm to grasp at straws and too poor to buy nails for his coffin.

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