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The other day I lost my best friend. My confidant, the person closest to me, who was always there for me. And as he left, he took me with him and all I am left is a hollow shell, empty and reverberating with what once was.
Everything that was once mine alone was made yours and I willingly shared it. Now, everything has your imprint pressed into the air around it and it’s impossible to ignore. As I reach to read a book, watch a program, play a game, it engulfs me, taking me back to times we had doing the same. My hand drops. There’s no way I can stand to face the memories, each one once so joyful and now so painful, each one etched deeply onto my heart.
Three years in our short lives is a significant time. So long, it’s near impossible to remember what I did before you were there. I find myself fumbling for the phone to relay something of interest to you and then I’m hit all over again- you won’t be there to receive it. Not in the same way.
I know over time, this will fade. But for now, I don’t want it to. To let go is to admit defeat and I’m not ready for that yet. I won’t be for a long time.
I know that you were wrong when you said this was the right thing. And so I stand, waiting, hoping, pleading, that something will change your mind and you’ll be back in my arms. But I can only stand and only time will tell.
