(this is the last thing you'll see on this account and it's by far the hardest thing i've ever had to write. it's the rawest, most emotional thing that i've ever written and i'm not sure how i managed to say it all without killing myself from sheer pain.

so please, any criticism you may have is not welcomed. not even about a typo. questions, maybe, about understanding something is fine. but please, i don't want to hear what you thought would have made this piece better because it's not a fucking piece of prose, it's my fucking soul. so if you're a bitch or a jackass...

fuck. off.)

one word→ guilt

the first time i saw you - saw you and who you were and who you really could be - was the night my grandfather died, july 30, 2007. my heart was lost and my best friend was out of town, the other too far away and unreachable. the world was out to fucking get me. but you were there for me until five in the morning, talking to me, holding me, saving me, even as i passed the point of uncontrollable crying and sat in silence. i saw the way you looked me in the eye, and i saw the way you were hurting, too. but i was numb, and only wanted you to beg me to believe that everything was going to be okay. i wanted you to tell me, make me believe in heaven and that God exists and he'll never refuse anyone going into heaven. i wanted you to tell me, force me to believe with every fiber of my being that my papa wasn't gone forever and he knew that we - all of us - loved him to death.

i remember the day you? i? asked the other out. it was a mess of "do you..."s and "i'd like to..."s and "if you wanna..."s that we just decided to tell them, "yes" we were going out, with smiles and joined hands.

then that first month together flew by, spent in blissful days of getting to know each other. our birthdays just days before halloween were obnoxiously cheesy and so was thanksgiving. then our birthdays, then our first time having sex together , on your dad's birthday, a couple weeks before christmas. you grinned at me, holding me with one arm and thumbing my cheek with the other. "happy birthday, dad," you whispered, "your son's a man, now."

valentines day was my favorite shirt and carnations mistaken as roses. i woke up to the smell of him all over my skin and found myself having the perfect day, showered by his love and attention.

summer was a mess of wild days, drinking, pot, and a campfire in my tiny little backyard with ten other people. heating rituals with our butts a foot from the fire, going through three 12 packs of soda, six packs of cigarettes, three bottles and two bowls stand out most in all of them, and the way your hot fingers felt on my spine.

then getting caught for shoplifting and facing fines and shame -- the way you held me tight and promised me that i was nothing worse than the girl who got caught because her friend messed up the tags. it wasn't my fault, it wasn't my fault, "it's not your fault". but he's always been a dirty little liar.

i remember our anniversary like it was yesterday. how dull it was, spent on my couch with my parents talking just a couple feet away. there was nothing to enjoy other than our time next to each other, spent under what they called "observation", but really, it was supervision.

i remember your hand at my waist, kneading my ribs with your big palm and long fingers, reassuring me that, at some point, would get a break and some privacy. "maybe cuddle up with the new panda i bought you," he whispered with a grin and twinkling brown eyes, "or press one of the seventeen roses that showed up in your room." he was too proud of his gifts to me to admit that he loved the ones i gave him.

then came our birthdays, and showering each other and trying beat each other's gift, and top last years presents.

and then...princess died on veterans day, 4:33 in the morning, on my brother's 13th birthday.. and the pain was back all over again, ten times worse, my heart too tight in my chest for me to breathe. i held her in my arms for an hour, willing her to get better and stop fading in and out of consciousness. then, finally, we took her to the animal hospital and they told me it was my fault. for not giving her all the shots we couldn't afford, for not giving her the arthritis surgery she needed, but would cost more than we could save up in a year. they told me that by all rights, they should be calling the animal police and charging us with animal neglect and animal cruelty because i "didn't love her" the way i should have. they told me it was my fault, for not noticing her condition sooner. they told me it was my fault for not caring enough.

you defied your parents at one in the morning and met me at the hospital, listening to them bitch out my mother and me, with shaking hands and heavy breathing from rage. we took her back to my house, held her in a blanket and pet her well into the night. as each minute when by, she got worse and worse and finally, i decided that it was too much for her. i made the hardest decision of my life, and it was to kill my dog, who'd been there for me since i was two years old. at 3:30am, he drove me to the animal hospital, signed all of the paperwork, and paid for her to be euthanized. he cried with me we waited for them to finish preparing her, remembering all of the things we loved about her. and when they said she was ready, i walked in and saw her laying there, her eyes staring straight ahead. i took her head in my hands and looked her straight in the eye. she watched my lips tell her i loved her so fucking much and that i always would and she died. eyes wide open, she died and stopped breathing and i will never be able to forgive myself again. i killed my fifteen year old terrier mutt. everyday, i see her out of the corner of my eye, or watch her tail disappear underneath my bed and her hiding place.

two weeks later, i got her ashes. they're sitting on a shelf next to the fur clippings and her collar and pictures of her.

i haven't been okay since then.

christmas approached fast and i bought him a bunch of gifts and bought a dog treat to sit next to her ashes, hoping foolishly she'll be able to eat it even in death.

now, i'm stunned by how close our two year anniversary is, in just four months and eighteen days. because all i can think about are the ways things have gone wrong, and the ways that you've been there every single time, showing me that no matter what, it's not my fault and that he'll always love me.

A/N: i had a good time on this account, but things have just gotten too hard for me to be happy like i used to be. this used to be my optimistic account, where i'd shamelessly post everything that made me happy. but now, i've hit rock bottom in so many ways, that i need to dig myself out somehow. this is not the place to vent anything other than anger and rage over something i now consider petty, like missed phone calls or misused words. no, this runs far deeper than that and i feel i cannot simply post it here, expecting all to welcome the change. go to my newer, darker account with all that is personal and too raw to be on here.

thank you for all of those who stayed with me through the couple years i was on this account. it means very much to me and i'm glad that you enjoyed my (past) work.

bye.