Her stomach ulcers didn’t stop her from drinking absurd amounts of coffee at all hours of the day. Sometimes we’d wake up and she’d put on one of my old shirts and sit in the kitchen while I cooked us breakfast. Actually, I’d make her breakfast first, and serve it to her so she wouldn’t have to wait.

I think I gave too much, but I don’t regret that, or grudge her for it. It’s my nature. I’d do anything she asked. A slurppee at 2am and some Benadryl because she’s allergic to our roommate’s cat, sure no problem, babe.

After we broke up I got a letter. It said,

You were the sweetest. All the shit we went through, I hope we’re passed it. I’ve done some growing up, and I’m sure you have too. There was no candy coating with you, you were the fucking candy. You have no idea. But too much sweets are never good for anyone.

Since she left I’ve thrown away all of my shirts that were her favorites, broken every mix cd she ever gave me, cleaned my house top to bottom obsessively, have yet to receive a hair cut, grown a beard, called my phone from work and filled my voice mail in-box so she can’t leave messages even though I’ve changed my number. I no longer cook.

These are the things that I regret. But I’ll never regret giving too much.

via sincesheleft

Stumbled upon a Tumblr that made me tear.