Every morning since Wednesday I’ve woken up and remembered that you’re gone.

That’s my first thought. Every day.

And then I have to try to reconcile with the silence that now exists between us. You talked as though we would stay in contact, be friends. But it was you who didn’t reply to my last message. It’ll hurt me more to try again.

I know deep down, knew it even as you were saying I could still call and text you, that we could never be ‘just friends’. I love you too much, my heart is just too broken. I will never be able to sit beside you as just your friend after what we have shared.

Your hugs were my favourite, and I can’t go to you for comfort now. We had been rocky as I reacted to the growing emotional strangeness between us over the past month. And you were increasingly frustrated with me, which made me feel worse. The circle was self serving and you wouldn’t talk to me about it. Not until it was much too late.

I understand that you didn’t feel ready for this to be your only relationship. I’m taking misplaced hope from you worrying that walking away will be the biggest mistake you make in life. I’m confused and I don’t think I’ll ever truly accept that I just wasn’t enough.

Because for me, you were more than enough. I’d have done anything for you. I’d have waited. I appreciate though, that you felt a break was not fair for me. It may have simply extended the grieving period, and this has been hard enough.

I miss you with every fibre of my being. Some moments my heart hurts so physically I can’t help but howl. Other times I’ve started to feel anger at my rejection and abandonment. But there are sweet times where I know I’ll be okay.

But it grievously wounds me to know you’ll never give me that look of love and adoration again as I ride you. Or worse still, you’ll give it to someone else. It’s like being repeatedly knifed in my stomach realising again and again that I won’t wake up next to you hugging me out of my morning haze. That there will never be another Sunday that’s just for us. That you’ll never again casually have your hand down my top while we watch TV. That we’re not going to share the new season of Sherlock. That the future I saw for us will not exist.

I understand now that the seriousness of us was scary for you and that you weren’t ready for it. I know that in time it will hurt me less and that my heart will heal.

In the mean time, I have to get used to no longer having the guy who held my hand through the worst times of my life by my side.

Too much of me hopes you’ll come back.


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