A pearl ring that my ex-boyfriend gave me for our first Christmas together. We were together just shy of 3 years... We moved to Nashville because he had dreams of becoming a rockstar. He moved here in January and I came down later that year in August. Over time, he became distant. I think he felt like he could do "better" than me, somehow. He had the musician lifestyle, living with 5 other guys in one house, working just above minimum wage. At the same time, I was starting my actual career as a therapist in a long term care facility. We were on different pages at that point, I guess. I wasn't as fun as the other hipstery girls on the east side of town; I was wearing scrubs and working with old people. New city, new opportunities, new girls... He broke up with me. I was unbelievably devastated. I still vividly remember crying and calling his name as he walked away from me, seeing only his back. I remember the length of his hair, the shirt he was wearing, even seeing the faded outline of his wallet on his back pocket.. I remember telling myself over and over and over, "he's not my boyfriend anymore" because I just couldn't make myself believe it. I still wore the ring. It was beautiful, and I still needed something of his, ya know? About 6 months later, the pearl just simply fell out while I was standing there, hit my wooden floor and rolled a little. I found it.. And then found my hammer, and hammered the pearl into pieces. Also hammered the ring (white gold). Pretty therapeutic, actually. Then I took the scrunched up gold to a jewelry store and got some cash. Yay.

Here we are now, 2.5 years since we broke up, friends and fuck buddies. Neither one of us has been in a relationship since. I wish he would open his fucking eyes. If you're reading this, you know I still love you with all of my heart and I wish we could try again. "It's only you, beautiful, or I don't want anyone. If I can choose, it's only you."