The thing no one tells you about healing is that saying “it’s over” is relatively painless compared to what comes after. It’s not the giving up that stings, it’s wondering what to do with the life you built around his. And that hurts like hell.

Their presence seems to always linger in your distant memory, in the back of your mind that wishes things could have been different. Your conscious mind convinces you that it all worked out for the best, but you can’t help but wonder.

The need for this hits me so abruptly sometimes that it seems like all that would ever matter ever. It is poignant and crippling, the sudden realization that you do not want to be alone when you were perfectly contented just moments ago.


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