We got married on an impulse and it all turned to shit. He was a lost soul, into almost any vice you can name (yeah I thought I could change him). But it still feels so eerie to know that he is not around. I hate to say it, but I knew he never had a chance at a healthy life, and I always thought he'd die young–still there is nothing like it actualizing.

We got ring tattoos in 'honor' of our marriage. More than ever, this shit has to go.

I feel worse for his parents, who adopted him. They gave him nothing but a comfortable home and a great education. Unfortunately he pilfered all of it on drugs and alcohol. 

I shouldn't care, I hated the guy and thought he was better off dead. Maybe this is guilt from that. Even so, there were things we shared together that only we had...as empty as it all seemed in the end.