Even though I ended it – I still miss you. A thought of you appears numerous times per day. You interrupt my dreams every single night. It has been 9 months now. Why are these feelings not going away?
I wish I could talk to you, hear your voice, see your smile. But I can’t. I know that it is better for you and it is better for me if I just keep the silence. If you want a wound to heal you need to stop touching it, I guess. As soon as I say a word the wound will be open yet again. And the thing is if I do text you one of two things will happen: either you’ll tell me to leave you alone and that you no longer love me, or we’ll start chatting again and I will miss you even more. I don’t know which I am more scared of.
If you tell me you no longer love me I’ll be destroyed. Five years is a long time and my love for you grew daily (even though we fought constantly by the end). Hearing that you no longer love me – I can’t imagine anything worse. At least now I can imagine that you still care about me and that you have been staying away because you want what’s best for me (and you know it doesn’t include you).
If we start texting again and you tell me how you miss me too, it’ll be a month and both of us will be depressed yet again. We don’t have the same interests anymore and we can pretend all we like – but that won’t change anything.
So you see not saying anything is best for both of us, even though it kills me. Especially at night, I long for your arms around me; your lips pressed against mine.
I heard about her, by the way, and at this stage I can still convince myself she’s just a rebound and someone to ‘have fun’ with. But talking to you might give me a bit too much reality. I don’t know if I will be able to breathe if I hear that she means more than I ever meant to you.
This is my escape. This is my little confession corner. Where I know you’ll never find me. Just me and my thoughts written out for me to see. Hopefully oneday soon this too will just be a memory. But for now this is how I get through this feeling – typing pages and pages of what is happening in my heart. My own little personal piece of therapy.
And the truth is I am alive, I am here and I am coping. Dealing with the emotions and thoughts as they present themselves. Writing letters to no one just grieving over someone I used to know.
One day I hope to be doing better than just coping, but for now coping seems adequate enough.