Missing you.

Is this just bound to happen to me? Every—what?—three to five years I lose a best friend? I thought losing you would kill me. It was the worst pain…

I fear this will be worse. Much worse. Because, honestly? I knew you for less than a year. I’ve known this friend for seven or eight. Well, they’ve been my best friend for seven or eight. I met them for the first time probably eleven years ago. This… this may kill me.

I always hated that you left me with no hope. I mean, I created hope out of thin air. It’s why I was able to heal. I feel like you told someone at the time that you wanted to give me a clean break. It never felt like a clean break to me. But maybe it was. Because what’s happening right now? This isn’t a clean break. This is like a stab wound. The knife still in, festering, throbbing, placed in a place that isn’t so vital and no one is pulling it out of me. So when it shifts slightly, I feel it like it’s another shock to the system. And I’m just hear, losing breath and losing blood, just waiting to bleed out.

I don’t know how I’m going to survive this. I already didn’t know if I was going to make it through the next few months but with this on top of everything else? I just don’t have the strength. Because of you and others, I know what happens to me when I lose a best friend. I know this pain. As confusing and frustrating and debilitating and shocking as this pain is, I can’t say it’s unfamiliar. And even though I feel like I can’t survive this again, I know I will. Somehow, someway, even if every day is a black hole, I’ll get through it.

But what’s the point? I cherish friendships more deeply than anyone I’ve ever met, but why should I? I should I be kind? Why should I love? Why should I become attached? Why the hell do I keep doing this to myself when—clearly—I’m cursed in more than one way and apparently bring this upon myself? Why do I try?

I wish you were still here. Maybe this wouldn’t hurt so much if you hadn’t hurt me so much before. If you hadn’t left. If you were here to talk me through this, as opinionated as you are. If you were here to hug me and tell me it was going to be okay, even though you didn’t know if it would be.

I miss you like hell. And I’m so tired of missing people.

Missing you.



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