It’s over. Finally. It’s well and truly over.
And I’m not glad, or sad, or relieved. I’m not anything really.
All I’ve got is this really unsettling, hollow, sinking feeling.
Like the one person who could fix anything - anything - was just taken from me.
Like the tether that was holding me above the surface has finally broken.
I could be having the worst of days, but just talking to you would somehow make it all better. You were my rock. You were the cornerstone of my life these past couple of years.
You were my refuge from the storm.
So much of the person I am today was based on how I felt about you. You weren’t my first love - the innocent, ever-lasting, anything-can-happen love.
You were my second. You were the one my guarded heart took a chance on. The one I was ready to trust no matter how badly it hurt the first time.
You taught me to believe in love again. And I knew I could always turn to you when I felt lost. You were my North Star guiding me home.
You were never mine to keep, but the love I had for you was. All those memories of my time with you - sitting by the river with the warm summer’s breeze and the stars shining brightly in the night sky - that was my happy place.
And I feel like I just lost all of that.
I thought I was letting you go that day in the spring over three years ago, as we said our goodbyes at the door of your flat. And as I walked towards the train station, towards a life without you, I never once looked back.
But I realise now, you didn’t need to be physically present to be a part of my life.
You were here all along. Every single day.
When I felt the need to tell you how my day was, to tell you about the boy I was dating, or the meal I cooked for lunch on a Sunday afternoon - to share not only the most important milestones from my life, but all of the boring mundane details of my everyday.
All that incessant texting throughout the day, 5 am phone calls just to catch up - you weren’t here but somehow, you always were
Until one day two weeks ago, when I was sat on my couch, talking to you on the phone, and I felt nothing. For the first time in all these years, I felt nothing at all. The sheer sound of your voice didn’t fill my heart with a longing to run towards you. To forget everything and fly halfway across the world to somehow make it work between us.
Through all these years, if I ever sat down to ask myself what would make me happy, truly happy, I knew it wasn’t where I was living or my friends or my job. It was you. It’s always been you.
And now, I no longer know.
It’s a strange, sinking feeling. Like I no longer know where my happy is.
No longer know where I belong.
I no longer know where home is ...
Sure the world’s my oyster, but when you’ve got no one to share your every day with, it can be an incredibly lonely and frightening place ....
And I’m not glad, or sad, or relieved. I’m not anything really.
All I’ve got is this really unsettling, hollow, sinking feeling.
Like the one person who could fix anything - anything - was just taken from me.
Like the tether that was holding me above the surface has finally broken.
I could be having the worst of days, but just talking to you would somehow make it all better. You were my rock. You were the cornerstone of my life these past couple of years.
You were my refuge from the storm.
So much of the person I am today was based on how I felt about you. You weren’t my first love - the innocent, ever-lasting, anything-can-happen love.
You were my second. You were the one my guarded heart took a chance on. The one I was ready to trust no matter how badly it hurt the first time.
You taught me to believe in love again. And I knew I could always turn to you when I felt lost. You were my North Star guiding me home.
You were never mine to keep, but the love I had for you was. All those memories of my time with you - sitting by the river with the warm summer’s breeze and the stars shining brightly in the night sky - that was my happy place.
And I feel like I just lost all of that.
I thought I was letting you go that day in the spring over three years ago, as we said our goodbyes at the door of your flat. And as I walked towards the train station, towards a life without you, I never once looked back.
But I realise now, you didn’t need to be physically present to be a part of my life.
You were here all along. Every single day.
When I felt the need to tell you how my day was, to tell you about the boy I was dating, or the meal I cooked for lunch on a Sunday afternoon - to share not only the most important milestones from my life, but all of the boring mundane details of my everyday.
All that incessant texting throughout the day, 5 am phone calls just to catch up - you weren’t here but somehow, you always were
Until one day two weeks ago, when I was sat on my couch, talking to you on the phone, and I felt nothing. For the first time in all these years, I felt nothing at all. The sheer sound of your voice didn’t fill my heart with a longing to run towards you. To forget everything and fly halfway across the world to somehow make it work between us.
Through all these years, if I ever sat down to ask myself what would make me happy, truly happy, I knew it wasn’t where I was living or my friends or my job. It was you. It’s always been you.
And now, I no longer know.
It’s a strange, sinking feeling. Like I no longer know where my happy is.
No longer know where I belong.
I no longer know where home is ...
Sure the world’s my oyster, but when you’ve got no one to share your every day with, it can be an incredibly lonely and frightening place ....
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