The hardest thing about losing you is that it didn't just happen
once. I lose you every single day that we don't speak. When I
wake up in the morning and reach for my phone and hope to see a
message that isn't there, and when I go to sleep at night after I
realize that the only person I want to moan to about how crap my
day was, isn't there. And I lose you in all the moments in
between, in all the hours of silence that go by where I do
nothing but think of you. I lose you when I watch certain films,
listen to certain songs, and go to certain places that are all
tainted with certain parts of you and how you make me feel. And I
used to think I could only miss you when I was alone, but that's
not true. I miss you when I'm around everyone else, too. Because
they are not you. But you're always there...somewhere. I can't
not think about you. It's only when I'm asleep that I get a break
from it. From thinking and wanting and missing. But, then I wake
up the following day, roll over, check my phone, see that you
didn't call and I just know I'm going to feel it all over
again.