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It had always been clear to me that we had different songs playing in our heads. My music was usually more of a death metal battle march that involved a lot of blood being spilt. Dom’s…oh Dom’s music was something that a romantic Irish poet would listen to, whatever the fuck that might be. He was a warrior, but I’d always known he had a poet’s soul. There could be no denying that it was one of the things I loved most about him. Still, it had always made everything hard. It was so hard to be the other half of someone’s perfect love story when you were as imperfect as me. I’d always known I’d fuck it all up. It had only been a matter of time.
It had always been as clear as day to me that it was fate that brought us together. Our love was written in the stars as clearly as ink on paper, but I knew she couldn’t read it. She was no star gazer. And certainly no dream chaser. Her feet were planted too firmly on the ground.