57 Reasons to Break Up | Aaron Ramsey

FORTY - NINTH ::

Remember when we had those sweet chats when we couldn't sleep back then,

We'd look up to the green pillow case that oozed above our heads, because we had built a fort in boredom as the moon hung outside our glossy window and our pulled back curtains -

Goodness, how I loved those moments with you.

We'd talk about how many dogs we wanted to adopt,

We'd talk about how many people we would invite to our dog-warming party, and then laugh about it as we ponder if there was such a thing.

Then we'd move onto more serious discussions:

You once asked me, really - out of the blue:

"How many kids do you want?"

To be fair, how many kids do I want?

I know I want at least one with you -

Maybe a boy -

So I could shamelessly and lamely name him Aaron Ramsey Junior. The poor boy would probably hate me for centuries to come.

And now all those thoughts hit the oblivion.

Hit the oblivion along with you and everything that once had you in it.

If you ask me how many kids I wanted now,

I'd tell you:

Zero.

Don't expect a mini-you,

Don't expect another Ramsey.

Don't expect me to be pregnant with your child for nine months, in agony and pain - while you cheat on me with Alyssa Florent and who knows how many other girls you have out there.

Don't expect me to come back to your door, with tears down my cheeks.

Don't expect me to wake up next to you and help you get your training kit ready at five in the morning.

Don't expect me to love you -

Because that, I definitely won't do.

//

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