By the time you read this, I will be gone.
We will never see each other again. But please donâ€™t be sad. Itâ€™s not you, itâ€™s me.
No reallyâ€¦ it is me.
Much as Iâ€™d like to stay with you a bit longer, no-one has found a way to halt the progress of time.
Iâ€™m getting older. It was inevitable. We knew it couldnâ€™t last forever.
Thanks for the memories. I can honestly say you have brought about the most life changes. I went to hell and back with you.
But the important thing is that Iâ€™m back.
And I canâ€™t tell you how grateful I am, for sending me into the next decade knowing Donna (warts and all) for the first time, and finally accepting her.
When we first got together I was so naÃ¯ve.
Married for 6 months, with a decent career. Believing all I had to do was get pregnant and Iâ€™d have it all.
Losing 2 babies showed me life wasnâ€™t like that.
And then having 2 babies was no bowl of cherries either.
Donâ€™t get me wrong. I love them to bits. They are my finest work, and we went through so much to have them.
I just never believed all that crap when people said kids were a hard slog.
And I didnâ€™t count on PND.
So here I am, 10 years older, a little wiser, and a fair few lbs heavier (thatâ€™s the bit Iâ€™m trying to change).
If youâ€™d told me when we met what you were about to put me through, Iâ€™d have drop-kicked you in the â€˜nads (do decades have â€˜nads?)
But how can I regret a time in my life which produced this:
So off I go to my 40s, which is bound to be a smoother relationship than my time with you.