I am writing this, in hopes that you wont get to read it. Because I dont want you to know that I'm still stuck in the place where you left me. That I spend my time replaying and re-reading our conversations, trying to find out what went wrong. That I stopped writing on my planner after the day I last saw you. That I'm still waiting for a proper goodbye.
You sucked loneliness out of my bones, as if you were made for it, only to return it ten-folds and turn it into misery. Into something that would take half a lifetime to get over. And here I am, still unable to think of a way to say goodbye to you. To us. To what we could have been. To the future that was denied from us.
I don't want you to read this. I don't want you to know. But somewhere, in the softest part of myself, I hope you do.
