“I fucking loved you, you know?”

You hung up. You didn’t have to pick up you know. You could have just ignored the call. Maybe you deleted my number. Maybe it was the tense I used. But I called to—I think I called to apologize—not to tell you how I still loved you. I mean, I guess this entire situation proves I’m a little masochistic, but I’m not fucking suicidal.
Shit—no, don’t leave. I promise I have a point.
I was wrong. I hurt you. I can be man enough to admit that. I made promises I couldn’t keep; to you, to me, to our families. I was blinded by you and your smile and your ambition and how you would give your life for that stupid dog.
Sorry, she’s not stupid. Shit, that’s not what I meant.
I miss you. I regret everything. I mean not everything, I could never regret you. We were just too young, we are too young. I jumped the gun on that too. I wouldn’t have made a good husband for you. You would have had to pick up after me. And you know I never remember to take the trash out. A life partner shouldn’t be a mother.
I don’t—I know you already knew all my shitty habits. I know you were willing to settle. But you shouldn’t settle. You shouldn’t ever settle for anything in your life. I want that for you. I want the best and that’s not me. You deserve quiet and personal and sweet. You’re so sweet.
I forgot to feed Sadie that day you went on a hike with your mom.
I know, I know. That’s what I’m saying. I’m fucking irresponsible.
And you’re just, you’re perfect. No, don’t roll your eyes, I mean it. Like what girl agrees to a taco truck at their wedding? You’re the fucking best.
I’m sorry I threw out those Anthropologie letters you got for the house. They were cute. They were simple and perfect and totally represented us and I just didn’t know what to do with them after—
No. Fuck. Please don’t cry. Jesus, I never want you to cry. I’m sorry I keep making you cry. I’m fucking this up.
I’m trying to explain to you why I—why things turned out this way.
You didn’t have to come.
Fuck, I didn’t mean that. Jesus, this is what I mean. I jerk you around. I don’t know what I want.
That was a cheap shot.
Of course I meant everything, me loving you—our life together wasn’t the problem.
Jesus, I don’t know, okay? I honestly don’t know. I just felt like if I watched you walk down that aisle it would’ve—it would have been a mistake.
Come on. This doesn’t—I’ve loved you our whole lives. I think that’s why we moved so fast. Do you remember middle school? Holding your hand was just the best thing. It still is the best thing. But I started thinking, ‘what if we broke up for a reason the first time’.
I know we were twelve.
Jesus, I know we’ve changed. I’m not saying my reasoning was perfect, I’m saying you are.
Shit. I didn’t mean to yell.
You were my best friend too. You still are. Forever is just too much to promise someone right now.
I know you’re not just anyone. Of course I know that, but babe, if we had only called off the—
I’m sorry, you’re right. I won’t call you that.
I don’t have the answers you want. I wish I did. I can just tell you it seemed right at the time.
I don’t know what’s right anymore.
I’m selling the house.
Don’t ask me that—how can you—well Jason’s fucking stupid.
I want you in my life. I know I can’t have that right now, but you’ve been a part of me for eleven years. I don’t want to lose that.
Please don’t be cruel; I’ve never been cruel to you.
I guess we have different definitions.
Are you living with your folks? Do you need—
Oh. Yeah, I guess. If that’s what you need.
Okay.
I will.
I’m always here you know. I know you don’t want me to say that, but if this is it –I just need to get it out there. I just need to get it out there. I need you to hear it.
Okay.

 – Elizabeth Lazowski