Life was great. We made future plans that were beyond exciting and I couldn't wait to experience life with you. But, all of a sudden, those plans shattered with a 30 minute conversation. Now we don't speak. I see you seemingly everywhere I go, whether you're actually there or not. Everything is a constant, painful reminder of the plans we had, no matter how small and insignificant. All of the memories haunt me, in reality and in my dreams, which I now consider nightmares, because we haven't said a word in weeks. And it's killing me.
It's like you died, like my best friend died. And I don't know how to handle that. You were such a huge part of my life, and now you're just gone. I see you and wonder, "How am I supposed to pretend like I don't know you?" When in reality, I know more about you than almost any human does. And I'm 100 percent positive that the reverse is true— I told you more than I've ever told anyone, and I'm just supposed to pretend like nothing ever happened, like I never felt the way I did, like you didn't make me feel something that no one else ever has. Please tell me how you do it without feeling like you're going to puke because I'd love to know your secret.
Please don't think that I'm attacking you, because I'm not. You told me not to contact you, and this is the only way that I can think of to indirectly tell you how I feel, that is if you even read this. I'm not mad that you did what you did because I understand why you did it. However, that's not to say that it doesn't hurt more than I can put into words. What I am frustrated about, though, is you being able to cut me out of your life completely and me not being able to do the same without every fiber of my being telling me that something is wrong here, that something is missing.
You're fine, and I'm not. You did this, so you have to be fine, right? You can go on with your life as if I never existed, as if I never meant anything to you. Me on the other hand, you left me without me knowing what was even happening. And to my disbelief, now we don't talk. At all. I think about how I might never again ask how your day was, and it makes my heart race. And every time I hear your name, my stomach turns and my palms start to sweat. I see little reminders of what we had and what we were supposed to be, and I can't think about it too long, or the tears start coming and won't stop. We cross paths and pretend like we've never met, we ignore each other like we're strangers, and it makes me want to scream because the talk of the future seemed so promising. And now that's gone.
