You Should Know

I dream about us, or how we used to be.

Mi amor, you’d call me.

I miss it.

Do you remember how you’d come home from tour and we’d lie in bed together for hours?

You’d play with my long hair, and everything was perfect.

We were happy.

Do you remember?

I do.

I didn’t even mind when you went on tour, because I trusted you, and I knew you wouldn’t hurt me.

You were always perfect; I’m the faulty one.

I’m sorry I broke your heart.

I’m sorry.

That time you let me come on tour with you for a few weeks was the best I’d ever felt.

Here’s my tour pass from then.

I saved it.

I saved everything, but I’ll give it all back to you, because I won’t need it.

I wonder if you hate me as much as I think you do.

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you why.

Remember when I went to the doctor because I kept getting migraines and throwing up?

For a few days there, I thought I might be pregnant.

I won’t lie, I was a little excited.

Okay, I was extremely excited.

I knew it would be hard, with your touring and all, but I liked the idea, you know?

I’d have some kind of company when I couldn’t have you.

Someone to take care of; a purpose while you were away to keep me busy.

We were already engaged by then, so I just figured we’d either move up or push back the date.

I went to the doctor all giddy with false hope, because we’d already talked about having kids after we got married.

I was so incredibly wrong.

I went to the doctor expecting good news, and came out with the worst.

I told you it was nothing, but I lied.

I cried after you fell asleep that night, because I knew what I eventually had to do.

I only broke up with you because I had to.

I never wanted to leave you.

I thought you should know.

I don’t care about sounding cliché, because I’m dying.

I love you.

I’m sorry.