I don’t know if you ever really loved me, and I’m not sure I want to know anymore, because you didn’t pick me.

I’m as happy as I can be without you, now with him. We hold hands, and kiss, and laugh, and it feels good. But sometimes I can’t help but remember that your hands would be smaller, and softer, your touch gentler, that is, of course, unless it was one of those nights you didn’t want gentle.

His lips are sometimes chapped, but it’s cute to think he’s not perfect all the time. Not the way you were, with your perfectly soft lips. Maybe that’s why we didn’t work out- because imperfection has no place in your life.

His jokes are charming, and yours were at times crass, but always clever, and I think you helped me grow up that way, in an odd way, that you taught me we could laugh about anything because life is too short to be taken seriously all the time. You helped me get over myself, and bring me back down to earth when I needed it most. I still carry that with me, even now.  I still curse like you taught me to; I never did before you, as you know, thinking it was a poor way of expressing feelings. But if you taught me anything, you taught me that sometimes life fucking sucks, and it’s okay to feel so deeply that all you can do is swear.

He doesn’t see that part of me because he isn’t you- but that’s okay. You’ll always have that part of me, because I think you’re the only one who liked it.

I’m marrying him, Lea, but please don’t come. I can’t look at you, then him, and pick him. Even if you don’t want me, I’ll always want you. But I’d rather be with him than be alone.

-Di x