I've been working on myself since the day you left, nine months ago.
You would think by now I'd have the whole thing down, that I would be nearly cured and over you.
That's the furthest thing from the truth.
Its embarrassing, really. I am stronger than this, this is nothing that I would ever want to admit.
Sure, I have learned. I fear rejection, I fear abandonment. I have no concept of validating my own emotions. All stemming from some childhood neglect. And I am working on it.
But happiness? That feeling I once knew as bliss? It hasn't even looked in my direction since all of this, and if I am to be completely honest, I am simply miserable.
As weak as it makes me, life without you is the worst damn thing I have ever gone through.
Do you even remember me? The colors, the lines you claimed were shadows that formed so easily? The way my head rested on your arm as I fell so fast asleep? Do you believe that since you left, I haven't felt like I could breathe?
And though I know it does me no good and it makes me sick, tears well at the very thought of this.
How has it been nine months since we have spoken? I wonder every hour, how is it that we, WE, no longer speak? We, who spoke hours on end and hung up just to call again?
How is it that my son is growing up so fast, and I can't help but think of what you're missing as I'm watching these moments pass, never to return... and I am angry then.
And really I just feel a lot of things, I suppose that is the human in me and I despise it, I hate myself more and more every second for it. But every time I stand up I get knocked back down, and I'm starting to feel like this is my home, and I belong here on the ground.
I am tired and I am ready to give in.