It has been five months and four days since we broke up.
It terrified me this morning when I realized that there has not been a day since when I did not think of you. I still cry when I think of where we are; I really wish I could rest my nose again on your left shoulder just like I always did.
I have never really shaken off that habit of experiencing things with you: there is not one new experience I have had that I did not wonder if you would enjoy it, too. In all the lovely restaurants, spas, parties I went to, I was quietly thinking of you.
I have been with other guys, yes. (I stacked them up rather quickly over the last few months.) I had hoped that they would fill that void that you left. I knew it was a doomed pursuit, but loneliness makes one do the insane.
Many of them have been kind; some not so. I will remember them all fondly because they were all great guys. I survived this far because they helped.
Life has gotten a little bit easier since five months ago. I can eat, I can work, I have been with friends. (It certainly wasn’t like that in the first few weeks.) I have since tried dating, and my social life has been bustling. I still haven’t slept well, but I know it’s because I haven’t stopped spending time crying in the mornings because I miss you.
I really wish you would come back. We were so good together; I can’t even think of any other reality without you. I miss you.