I know there’s a void. I feel an ache and an eternal exhaustion, fighting through a day that I know will never be what I want it to be. There were two phases of my life before this one: the confused, innocent youth and the confident bliss of being with you.

It’s been years.

I’ve played every song to get me furious at you, to convince myself that what you did was so horribly wrong that I couldn’t dare think of you the same way again.

But in the little cafe or in the airport – somewhere unpredictable – some song that reminds me of that confident bliss draws me back to you.

I could drink, take pills, spend nights with other men, cut my hair, volunteer, work, work out, starve… nothing diminishes your presence from my life, however far you may be from me.

I would know you’re the one if you weren’t seeing someone else. I would know that it was you and I against the world if there wasn’t another woman parading around the cities we were meant to go to together.

I’m happy that you’re happy and safe and healthy. I really am. Even with her.

But I am in a place where nothing can fill that void. Nothing can stop the songs from being played. Nothing can make me stop thinking of you. I’ve tried. I really have.

So what does one do when their beloved can’t ever love them back? I guess they write and they continue to hope and dream and wallow. I guess they find love in friends and family.

I’ll just always miss you. Always.


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