Phil Collins Does Not Tell Lies.

She came to get her CDs today. She was supposed to come last night. I guess she didn't want to see me. So it was today.

She text me while I was in the middle of training someone. I struggled to maintain my composure. I was able to. All day actually.

When someone comes back to get their CDs, you know its over. Friends keep CDs. Sometimes for years. People who break up don't. Because its over.

I came home to find a random Phil Collins CD left on my bed. Obviously forgotten. I text her joking about it. She didn't answer.

She told me that we would stay friends. She said I would still see her. She said it would be like it was before there was a relationship to worry over. That isn't how its been. I haven't got a memo saying it changed, but I guess it has.

A person could make a very good case that we should never have been together at all. I suppose looking back on it now that I'd have to agree. It doesn't change how I feel. It doesn't change how much I care for her. It doesn't numb the pain from the shock of her absence.

Almost 5 years of my life was spent trying to make her smile. All those moments, together. All the promises of forever.

All the things that we knew that no one else did. The looks. The words. The memories. Gone. Worse than gone. Undone. Like they never happened at all. Fact made fiction.

I was seven when my grandfather died. I remember standing on the porch of my grandmother's house, not far from where I last saw him, and hearing my mother say "he's not totally gone you know. he lives on in your heart." Even then, I knew that he was dead, and that he didn't live on anywhere at all. But there was a truth in her words nonetheless. He died loving me.

No one ever replaced me to him. I was special to him and nothing will ever change that. That is what forever means - until you can't anymore.

Reannan is not dead. She is gone. We are never going to go on vacation back to our home at the beach. We are never going to hold hands again. We are never going to lock arms moments after getting out of the car and walking into some place. We are never going to wake up in bed one day and realize we are old. We are never going to her parent's house for stupid fucking Christmas again. I wonder if I will even see her again. Not at this rate. I don't matter to her anymore. I'm not special. I am nothing but a mistake that she made. How many people can say that about me?

My eyes are burning and I'm choking from my tears. Every moment of my life with her that I cannot forget, ever memory indelible in my mind is now twisted and torn. Every smile is pain.

I don't want to survive her. I don't know how to lose her. I don't know how to go on. I don't want to. I don't want to never be able to wake up next to her again. I don't want to never watch her sleep. I don't want to never make her laugh again. I don't want this life.

I want to be back in Virginia Beach, standing in the Punk/Ska section at Planet Music. I want her to come up from behind me

and wrap me up in her arms and say "MINE!". That was my favorite memory in the world. It's gone now.

I have never wanted out of life so badly, but I have never felt less likely to kill myself. I'd probably just fuck that up too. And I'm not sure there is even a point to truncating a life that is already well underway. Like leaving a movie you've already paid for.

Just like how I felt watching Transformers, I knows thing are only going to get worse for me. Almost certainly in ways I cannot even imagine. What difference does it make? No one is going to care about my suffering and my pain in 100 years,

almost no one does now. Then, it will be forgotten. Just like it never happened. I'll leave nothing more in my wake than a

lifetime of plastic containers. An ideal legacy for an artificial fraud.

I deserve it all.