I cry every single night for two weeks straight. Hoping, waiting, praying for a phone call I know will never come.
My heart feels like it’s being ripped out of my chest, then placed back in only to be ripped out once again.
By now you’ve taken me out of all your pictures like I don’t exist. Like the last eight months were just a figment of my imagination.
It feels like you’re dead. It also feels like I’m slowly dying.
No one prepares you for these feelings; no one tells you you’ll be dreaming of them every night, replaying moments in your relationship when things were pretty perfect and problem free. No one prepares you for the aftermath—the hours spent awake and restless in a comfortable bed that you can’t even appreciate because you won’t be getting so much as a wink of sleep for the rest of the night.
Right now I’m sure you hate me, curse my name every time it enters your mind. Like I’m a tick you just want to get rid of. Like I’m an illness you’ve contracted without a cure.
Just know that I could never hate you.
There was a point in my life where you were my love, where I imagined spending forever and a day by your side, hand gripping tightly onto yours.
So, I’ll never take your pictures down. I’ll leave the note you wrote me for valentines on my desk. I’ll take care of the orchid you gave me that still continues to bloom. I won’t delete your number from my phone even though I’m tempted to call you every hour. And I’ll always love you because regardless of the fact that we’re no longer together, you are 8 months of my life I could never live without.