Let Love Rule

I made mistakes, I'm not hiding behind a facade of sorrow though. There's no use in beating a dead horse. Truth is, I am well aware of my short comings. I screwed up my previous relationship not by just being angry. Anger is circumstantial. The reasons for it may not be as see-through and crystal clear as we'd like them to be, many are buried under layers upon layers of early psychosis, childhood trauma create adult drama, and no one is without a slice of sorrow.
Succinctly speaking, I failed to live up to the expectation and failed to keep my promise, and my failures in love made me less of a lover, a feeding nest for hatred.
It is easier to lie to yourself. Truth is, I saw the end coming and, honestly, I don't really know why it lasted as long as it did. She must've loved me somehow, I can't conceive of a better explanation. Only love would make you so blind as to not really see the deception, the shortcomings, the lie. Only love would make us so blind to think that we really had a chance to thrive. Only love dares to dream and materialize the absurd, make fairy tales come alive.

I should've been making more money or at least as much as I was making two years ago. I should've been divorced two relationships ago. I should've been nicer, not so much of a prick.
In blaming yourself, you get nowhere though. It takes two to tango and blame is a two-way street with all traffic going in the wrong direction. It's not like I did all wrong, no. I tried. I worked full-time to make sure it didn't last out but I also held a part-time job making sure it'll be forever. I not only hated her for having a foot out the door: I loved her for having the audacity and tenacity to remain mine somehow. She never ran away, she always answered and being the man, I did not mind in the least bit to be the one giving chase. She loved me in that role, I guess she too felt guilty over the course of her actions, she took more than pity, but also courage and resolve, to patch things up again and give it another go. We were not meant to last, but we did last long enough to give more than a shit. We kind of forgot along the way that our nuptial plans were trumped by the fact that I was still married; we forgot that I wasn't making enough. We fucked often but never out of pity and it was always on. We forgot I didn't take her to many fancy restaurants but I cooked for her daily. We didn't go on more than one minuscule vacation because our life was a perennial getaway. We forgot not to fall in love, and we forgot that it was too late.