I feel like I’m waiting. Like I’m in some kind of suspended period of time where I’m waiting for my life to start again or for you to come back. My logical mind knows you aren’t coming back. My logical mind knows I won’t see you but even so I still feel like I’m just waiting but I don’t know what for.
My life feels like it’s been split into two halves. Before you left & after you’d gone. Which in reality is the truth. When I was happy & now, now when there’s no joy & only happy memories & snap shots of who I was before & who we were together.
The familiarity of your memory is so sharp to me, I know it’s only 6 weeks & 2 days since you left me, but it feels like it was a moment ago, yet at the same time it feels like forever ago. I miss you painfully. I miss the familiar way we had, your voice, your face, your support & love. I miss the knowledge that you’re there, always dependable, always predictable…but in the nice way you were predictable, not boring, just familiar.
I realise with such irony how secure I actually was, considering I’d thought I’d felt so insecure over the last few months. The illness rendered us unrecognisable to each other, when we’d been to each other the person we had been so certain of.
I’d give anything for a chance to handle things differently. To not listen to the voice of the damaged frightened girl in my head & just allow myself to believe in the love you showed me. To understand better the actions of an unwell man instead of taking it so personally, as a slur against me. You looked in my eyes & told me you loved me desperately & I told you I didn’t want you to love me desperately, only normally. I just wanted normality. And now nothing will ever be normal or ok ever again.
I wish you could hear me, my lovely lovely broken man. I wish.
I love you so much.