I am breaking down in my friend’s arms.

I am breaking down in front of my therapist.

I am breaking down in a stranger’s bedroom at a party.

I am breaking down, and his name is the only word I know.

I am breaking, and in my brokenness, he is the only love I have ever known.

But there are tears wetting my cheeks that I won’t remember the next morning, and although I call out his name like a reflex, I know this is simply the loneliness speaking.

I am not living for him. Or us. Or whatever we could have been but are, tragically and devastatingly and perhaps for the best, not. I am not living for the day he decides to change his mind about me. There are nights when I do not believe this, and I do not believe in myself, but I am not—I am not living for him.

This is what I'm living for.

Lighting sparklers at the beach. Watching the city glow from the rooftops. Sneaking into abandoned warehouses at three in the morning. Feeling electricity run through my veins. Dancing. Living in infinity.

This is what I’m living for.

Grabbing midnight breakfast in twenty-four hour diners. Singing along to the songs of my middle school years in the car. Laughing so hard it hurts to breathe.

This is what I'm living for.

Catching up with childhood friends at the park where we used to spend our summers. Having hours worth of good conversation over cold coffee. Taking the long route home and watching the sun set.

This is what I'm living for.

Rebuilding fraught relationships. Forgiving people. Being forgiven. Becoming a better person. Growing in my faith. Being kind. Being authentic. Being vulnerable. Telling people they’ve inspired me. Inspiring them, too.

This is what I’m living for.

Hugs that envelop me in warmth. My favorite bookstores. Pumpkin scented candles. Autumn leaves. Rainy drives through the backroads. Reruns of old TV shows. The first snowfall of the season. Cities during the holidays. Coffee with my mother on a Sunday morning.

This is what I’m living for.

The big moments. Sparkly dresses. First kisses. The most transient of loves. And the ones that I know are going to be forever. And that moment when all of my dreams are going to come true.

This is what I’m living for.

The small things. Strangers who hold doors open. People who ask about my day and mean it. Friends who make me laugh when I’m crying.

This is what I’m living for.

The people that I love. The people that love me—fully, truly, unconditionally and forever.

This is what I'm living for.

Myself.

I cannot waste my life waiting for him to text me back or wondering why I wasn't enough for him. I don't want to. I’m enough for me.

There is so much I am living for.

I am so whole.

I am broken.

I am broken, and lonely, and hopeful, and at times so unbelievably sad, but I am whole.