I thought that maybe I could make things better. I thought that maybe I could restore what I once had.

I thought that I could become good enough, I thought I could become perfect. Perfect for her like she was for me.

But I guess I can't.

I guess there is no hope of it.

I've lost the most precious thing I've ever had, and unlike times similar to this I don't want to go get drunk or high, or break things or anything else.

This time I don't know what I want to do, other than get on with life and live as best I can.

Maybe someday my butterfly will flutter back to me. And I'll have the opportunity to love it again. I'll have the opportunity to be better. Maybe.

But I'm not counting on it. And that above all else is what breaks me.

I really did love her. I really did want to spend my life with her.

Now...I just don't know.

It would make it easier if I could just hate her. But I can't.

And for the first time, the beatles are wrong. Love really isn't all you need. Shame.

Freshly beaten flat

Iron