I’m a picky person. But I picked you. I picked you as the person I liked and I loved and I wanted to go on dates with and eventually I wanted to get a cute little apartment and have a nice couch that would be big enough for me to lay down and watch greys anatomy and you laying between my legs on me. And the lights are off and my hands on your back. And listening to music and you helping me cook and you sitting on the counter and when I’m done cooking for a minute I come stand between your legs and just hug you. I wanted to go to dinner with you at Texas Roadhouse and I wanted you to meet my mom or go to my brothers with me and just sit on the couch. I picked you. And I was done for awhile I was focused on you and making this work. I jumped when you wanted something and if you said you liked something i got it for you and i could see you in my everyday life. Going to bed with you on the phone. When I just wanted to talk to you. How we could go from joking on each other and laughing to dirty the next. I was all about you and you never had to worry about me with anyone else. But you didn’t pick me and I was naive you even told me when I asked why it wasn’t me that “I just feel like it’s always been her” I’ve always just been your second. Just the person you go to when it’s not working out for you. I’ll never be half of what you are to me.Everything she is to you, you are to me. And I keep getting destroyed. Broken and torn down and heartbroken.