It’s been two solid weeks since he walked out the door. No promises made to stay friends, or in touch. He’s been so delicately erased from my every day. I catch myself dwelling on the potential of us, instead of the actuality of our history. I force myself to remember our time was brief, even if we both believed our future wouldn’t be.
It’s so hard to let go of him, of us. It’s so rare to feel connected, and get excited about potentials, and egg-shell talks of futures. To cut short the day dreamed adventures, and remind yourself that they never happened, even if you believed with all your might they would.
It’s a big black hole. As if he never existed, we never did.
And it fucking sucks.