If anyone has a few days in July (not weekends, thanks to my job) and can go to Dallas and help me put my life in boxes and help me cry, I'd appreciate it.
In one of the most immature moves of our lifetime, Denver chose facebook chat as his means of communication to tell me that I don't care about his needs and wants, he absolutely just does not want to be married and "ITS OVER."
That was followed with a severe panic attack, hysertical crying, and poor mom and Katy trying desperately to calm me down enough to take a double dose of my anti-anxiety pills. Once they kicked in, I took 4 ambien, told God how mad I am at Him, and fell asleep.
"Did it really happen?" *Miranda nods* Maybe one of the girls will crap her pants at the river this weekend and that'll help me feel a little better.
A huge portion of me has just died. We were cleaved together as 1 flesh. And that flesh has been butchered.