Today is her 22nd birthday.
We started talking again in the later part of 2012, our senior year of high school. We went to the same junior high, even "dated" for a while, but nothing serious ever really came out of it. I was kind of a douche back then and her parents didn't like me that much. We stayed in touch, random messages throughout the years. Nothing ever really committed. Until the last few months of 2012. We were talking and getting to know each other better. I was there to wish her a happy birthday on her 18th. We started dating and made it Facebook official on March 26th, 2013. On my 18th birthday, we went to her high school prom. It was one of the best birthdays I'd ever had. Things were amazing. We had our ups and downs, but we were falling for each other. In late August/early September of 2013, I went to Florida for college. We did the long distance thing. It was so hard because of the schools strict as prison policies in governing their students. I left that semester and never went back. I was back in time for her 19th birthday. I went away again to Arizona, a different, better school. Things, again, were tough. Long distance relationships are the worst. But every day I didn't see her just made me want to come back even more. I can back for spring break, I spent as much time as I could in that one week with her. I didn't have a car and couldn't drive so she made that sacrifice to drive over 100 miles round trip just to come and see me. I finished my semester and came back for good. Only now, my parents had moved. It was now a 170 mile round trip. It was time for me to do something. I would ride the bus, early in the morning, out to Orange County, where she'd find me and I'd spend the weekend with her. I started working, finally got my license and a car. I started seeing her more and more. We had just celebrated our 1 year anniversary that year, by the time her birthday was near, we were going to celebrate 21 months. I took her out shopping and for dinner on her 20th birthday. I was there for her 20th. 2015. Our 2 year anniversary came and went, we were still mad in love for each other. We would fight sometimes over little things. But we always worked it out in the end. But by this time, I had moved out of my Uncle's home. I moved there to be closer to her (and school) but things didn't work out with his family and me. I ended up not wanting to leave OC. I thought I could stay in my car when I'm desperate and find a room or an apartment with roommates eventually. I lived in my car for almost a year. It was broken into with me in it 3 times over that period. I was scared and broken and felt so alone sometimes. But she was always there. Her family made my stay so much better. I can never thank them enough for that. We went to LA for her 21st birthday. We loved it there, visiting The Last Bookstore, The Grove, Urth Caffe. We had so much fun in the last few years. Three days after her birthday, the day after Christmas, marked 33 months together. Two years, nine months. I was there for her 21st birthday. It's 2016, and things are getting tough for us. I'm still living in my car, she's urging me to go back home with my parents. She's been telling me for months that I shouldn't be living this way. We fight more, about things that shouldn't matter. We work it out, but it's hard. February comes, I take her out to Valentine's Day dinner at Habana. I gave her a ring. Rose gold and silver with small diamonds. It was a promise ring. I wanted to marry her. We celebrate our 3 year anniversary the next month. It was 3 years of amazing wonderful support and love. But I started to stray. I was hanging with the wrong crowd, going behind her back and doing things I knew I shouldn't. We had both been Christians for the majority of the relationship. Except I hadn't been praying in months. I didn't feel anything at church. I went to be with her. I started hanging with coworkers that like to party and I got into it. She probably suspected but never confronted me about anything. I was a good liar, I guess. I was out getting drunk and high at these parties when she though I was sleeping or working. I was being a selfish piece of shit. Towards the end of April, we broke up. Or, I broke up with her. I told her it was because I needed time to get my life together. I wasn't a Christian, she knew that. She cried, practically begged me to stay. In the end she let me go. If I could turn back time, 8 months to that day...I would never have left. I really was a piece of shit. I didn't need to get my life together. I'd like to think I left because she deserved someone better. Someone who shared her beliefs and made her feel loved. In reality, I was thinking of myself. I was getting sucked down into this abusive rabbit hole and I would have only dragged her down with me. If only she knew about the alcohol, the late night trips to the bar, the weed, the coke. So we broke up. I couldn't stop crying when I got into the car. Looking back now, I shouldn't have cried. I threw it all away for some cheap thrill that would only hurt me later. The drugs, the alcohol, fucking pointless. But I was sad. I threw it all away, the single best fucking thing to ever happen in my life was meeting her and falling in love with her. And I threw it all away for the addictions that clouded my mind and made me unaware of the cold reality that I was fucking alone now. So, I did what a lot of people have done. I went off the rail. The next few months were a blur. I moved back to my parents, but I was never there. I'd drive out to OC in the middle of the week if it meant going to a party. I was working for my dad, making good money, and throwing it all away on booze and drugs. I ended up dating this one girl for a while. It was not a good decision. I knew it was a rebound relationship to distract myself from the pain I was feeling and trying to numb it with all of the substances. I ended up moving in with her, someone I barely knew, after literal months of dating. I hadn't even thought of doing that with my ex, we dated for years. Eventually, the lies came up again. She made me miserable and I wasn't afraid to hide it. She moved out after 2 months of living with me. I decided to keep the apartment, even though I can barely afford it. It's the only thing that gives me comfort, being able to call a place and all the things in it mine. But it doesn't help. I'm not into some of the harder things anymore. But I still occasionally smoke weed. I still get drunk, all the time. I don't take care of myself. When I left her, all her friends went with her. I was alone. There were my old coworkers, but we had only known each other from work and parties. I didn't have any real friends. I still don't have any friends. I'm laying in my bed now, alone, typing this out. I don't really get text messages from anyone to hang out or even catch up anymore. All my texts and calls are work related. I'm so. Fucking. Lonely. I got a second job. Back with my old coworkers. It makes me happy being around them all again more often. But I always leave and go home to absolutely nothing. Just my cold bed. My practically empty, drab, depressing apartment. I've accepted the fact that this is all my fault. I have no one to blame but myself. I am a scumbag and deserve every bit of pain I'm going through. But God only knows how I still feel about her. I still love her so fucking much. I think about her daily. But I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm horrible for what I did to her. Which is true, I'm a horrible person. And I hate that I did what I did. If I could turn back the clock to that last week of April and do it all over, I would. I never would have left. I would have made things work. I know things would have been fine, and I can't stop thinking about that. The only time I don't think about it is when I'm drunk off my ass sitting in my room. Even then, I've had plenty of drunk cries over this shit. I can't stop thinking of her. Today is her 22nd birthday. Three days from now would have been 45 months together. Almost 4 years. She's dating someone else now. They're pretty serious, from what I've seen. They love each other. He's a Christian, from the church that I invited her to as a last ditch effort to try to salvage my own faith. I'm sure he's a great guy, but I can't help but feel so much anger and resentment towards him and towards myself. Because he has what I can't have anymore. He has her love. And I want it so fucking bad. After all I've done, I'm sure there's nothing I could do to make it up to her. Even if I could, she's with him now. This isn't Hollywood, I can't stand outside her window with a boom box hoping she'll come back to me. I don't expect her to ever forgive me. I don't deserve it. I just have to live with the fact that I'll never get to experience her love again. I don't deserve it. It's her 22nd birthday and she'll be spending it with all of her friends and her new boyfriend. I won't be there for her 22nd.
