Smokey bars and broken hearts.

All that I want anymore is for things to get back to normal.
But not the normal it was.
I just want her here again.
I miss the hell out of sleeping beside her every night, the little talks.
I don't want it the way we were. It was shitty. I was shitty, I treated her like she was nothing at times, I never made her feel as special as she made me feel. I should have proposed to her when I picked her up at the airport, when she was wearing that dress just for me, when we kissed like we'd not seen each other in years, when I'd never been so excited to get home with someone. Not for the sex, not for the things like that, but because I'd never felt so lonely before, and when she came back, it was a breath of fresh air, a calm after a storm. The person I needed to feel whole again. I want to be good to her like I've wanted to be and wouldn't let myself. I want to hold her high, let her meet my family, all of my other friends, I want to put a ring on her finger, I want to make plans for our future, not just my own. I want to make the world jealous because of how together and happy we are. I want to watch the world burn, and hold her hand while we witness it.

I know that I'd die for her, and when her time comes, I'd pray to die with her.

And I fucking threw it away over vanity and what others thought of our relationship. It's rare I've let others cause me to form an opinion of what I loved, who I loved, and for some reason, I let it get to me.

I disgust myself due to it. And really, its a very real probability that I won't be with her again.

Not knowing if her and I will be together again is eating me a alive, and I promised myself after the first real heartbreak I had, that I'd never let myself feel this way again, that I'd never make the same mistakes, and most of all, that I'd never let another woman in like that.

But somehow, she found her way inside of me, knowing me almost better than I really know myself, knowing thing about me that I'd never openly admit, and not thinking a less of me for any of my flaws and indiscretions. She wanted nothing but me, however I came, whatever I brought with me. She's never completely given up on me, and I pray that I may have one more chance that she hasn't, so I can turn it around.

It's eating me alive, and I've honestly been talking to God wondering what will happen.
Things seem that they may work, but I never like to get my hopes up about anything anymore at all.

In the words of my brother, and best friend:

"Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. But in the end, don't expect a goddamned thing."

I can't take another loss due to my own stupidity again, I can't loose another piece of myself like I've lost before. Call it desperation, call it what you will, but I physically, mentally, I can't do it again, and I will not.

The thought of her with anyone but me makes me physically ill. Worse than anything I've ever felt.