I know that I can live without you, but that doesn’t mean that I want to.

Am I crazy? Am I batshit crazy for thinking that maybe you will come around?

I am fucking crazy. Because you haven’t made a sound.

Weeks have gone by and all this time, you are silent.

I miss you but I don’t want to anymore.

I never expected this hurt to be so bold.

Your silence is violent.

I just figured I’d be sad for a little while

but how long will it last?

How many more miles

around the sun

does my love for you have to go

before I’m finally done

and over you and on to something new?

You know?

I’ve been told to go out and have a bit of fun,

to stop sitting still, to act out, and just go numb.

But by doing that, by falling into old habits, what do I gain?

I’m tired of feeling but I’m also sick of not properly healing this pain.

And the only way

for me

to heal

is to grieve

and the proper way to grieve

is to give in to the discomfort, not push it away hoping the closure will come along first.

Closure does not happen until I face the power caused by the hurting.

Only then

do I see it,

feel it,

taste it,

accept it,

and then decide to let it go.

Excuse me if my process is a little slow.

I never imagined I’d have to learn how to live my life without him.

I don’t know where to start.

I don’t quite yet know how to mend my shattered heart.

All I can do is give it time.

Give it time.

Give me

some time.

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