I could try my absolute hardest and I still don't think that I would be able to describe what it's been like losing you. I wish I could find the words that would adequately describe how much you still mean to me.

Losing you has changed me. It has matured me. It has wrecked me.

Losing you has been like watching a horror movie with the lights on. It doesn't feel right, yet at the same time i'm seeing so much more than I would if the darkness was here to encourage my wandering mind. Than if you were still here. There's no reason to be afraid anymore. There's no potential of losing you, because my love, you've already left me.

Life is continuing on in the light that surrounds me, but the nightmare is stuck on a vicious cycle before me. I tilt my head back towards the light in hopes of only seeing the brightness above me, yet I still hear everything.

It's something that I am growing accustomed to. The memory of you subconsciously on my mind. The way that you vibrantly played out your role in my life. I still see the beauty of you on the screen. My once favorite film has now turned into a scary movie that I would never pay to see.

My love, how do you do the things you do?

Watching a horror movie with the lights off -- I stay on the edge of my seat, unsure of what will happen next. The darkness holds the thrill, the mystery, the excitement. The darkness is what makes everything about a film -- about a love -- that much better.

But you? You were the brightest darkness that I've ever come across. You captured all of the best things about films with both the lights on, and the lights off. You have the highest ratings, you are a number one hit. You are timeless and you are classic. Yet you don't even realize it. But at the same time, hidden in those "lights off" moments, was my fear that once the film was over, the lights would slowly rise, and you would be gone.

Now that's exactly where I find myself. The movie's series was cut short and I am stuck watching the same horror movie, yet with the lights on. All the good has been taken out of it.

You were the most amazing thing that my eyes have ever seen.

But as torturous as this cycle without you is, and as badly as I want it all to end, I secretly dread the day that the movie projector breaks and you're no longer subconsciously on my mind.

I fear I will tarnish your voice. I fear that I will not be able to speak of you in such a way that would do you justice. How is one capable of even doing such a thing? Your role speaks for itself, but I wish more than anything that you could know how radiantly it touched my soul.

"You won't be scared if you turn the lights on," You said to me as you made your way to the door. I insisted that the lights out was the best part; that you were the best part.

"It's better for you this way, you'll see."

I've been watching the same film for so long, I've grown up. I keep my head tilted back, squinting into the light. I let myself hear every detail of the movie, over and over again. I know every line by heart. The images are burned into my mind, and I know exactly how this will end.

And with every time the film ends, everything in me hopes that this ending will be different. I hope that when I open my eyes and lower my gaze, the lights will have dimmed, and you'll find your back to my side -- back to where you fit.

Because darling, I despise watching movies with the lights on.