Some of our friends are starting to hit 25+year wedding anniversaries. Starting to catch Rog and I up.
We made it over 30.
But I will never make it any longer than that. There will be no celebration of long, deep, true love for me now.
Reading a friend’s post this morning, about their silver wedding romantic trip. Ugh. I want to die, it hurts so much.
I mean, these are really nice, really good people. I’m genuinely pleased for them. Not Fakebookers. Wished them well.
But sadly, my own pain is unending.
He stole it all. Stole my security and carefree happiness. I’ll never get that back, fully. I mean, you carry on, but it’s never the same again. Everything is careful, mindful, thought out. Spontaneous enjoyment doesn’t exist anymore.
I wanted the long, true love story, and genuinely thought I had it. I couldn’t have loved him more.