Have a great day!

Note: “We” is me, just me, because I can only speak for myself.

Well, tomorrow is five years since the day I got married. Five years. What the fuck. Five years since I woke up so fucking early to get ready to drive to the courthouse, get married, have brunch, drive to Galveston and celebrate? Is that what we did? Did we celebrate? Did we mourn? Did we grieve? Did we experience buyer's remorse in our own ways? What did we do? What do you call what we did? Eat, drink, sleep. What a weird time. COVID. We used the shit out of COVID. We milked the shit out of it. We used it as a mask –LOL literally –to hide how much we didn’t care. We didn’t care to get married. We didn’t care to plan a wedding. We didn’t care to celebrate the coming together of two lives, two families. We just didn’t care. Could not have given less of a fuck. We did care more about the house. Having space –so much more space. A yard. That we did care about, and we spent much more time deciding on what we each wanted in a space. We spent more time researching. We were more urgent err there was more urgency behind that process because we both wanted it. More space. Did we experience buyer's remorse? Did we mourn our past homes? Did we grieve what we were leaving behind? No. Did we celebrate? Yes. And so getting married just made sense after that. Like, it’s what you’re supposed to do. And I mean we’ve spent so much of our lives together already – we owe each other marriage and commitment, right? That’s what we thought. Silly fools we were. Young and dumb and doing exactly what was written in the stars for us to do. It had to happen as it did. We had to play those roles in each other's lives. R, when our souls leave this planet behind when these meat suits die and we return home, we owe each other standing ovations at how fantastically we played our roles. You were magnificent, fucking brilliant. Telling me to “have a great day” when you left for work the morning I was served – *chefs kiss*. And you owe me my fucking flowers for what transpired after I was served. It was some might call the greatest plot twist of all time. Why isn’t she crying? Why isn’t she begging? Why isn’t she trying to talk to me anymore? Because, darling, a stranger handed me papers informing me my husband wanted a divorce – a cowardly choice meant to provoke, but it didn’t work. You truly dazzled when you returned to the house a day later with your... bodyguard? LOL. Anyway, I do celebrate this day now – the 10th of October because it’s a reminder of the second chance at life I was given. It’s a reminder that I am not that girl anymore who does things she couldn’t give less of a fuck about. It’s a reminder that I always deserved better and so did you. We both deserved someone who gave a fuck. I celebrate all the healing work I’ve done since 2020 and I thank all the versions of me I’ve been since – because I wouldn’t be who I am without what you taught me either, so thank you for that. Leah, you are one really fucking incredible human being. I love you so fucking much and my god I am so fucking proud of you. I love you, baby girl.