You

I have things to say to you. But you are not here. So I've just been left to think them, and not say them. You know me, I can't keep quiet. I have to say, not just think, it's almost compulsive.

There's a You-shaped hole in my life that I can't quite seem to fill. I have tried. I have also never been so hurt in my life before.

I let you in. That was my fault. And I let you become important. That's on me as well.

It galls me.

Almost every other day, I miss you. I think of something, I want to call you and tell you about. I eat a piece of food I think you will just love. I read a book that I want to recommend to you.

How is it possible you don't miss me at all? Why is there no Me-shaped hole in your life? Was I so dispensable? So easily replaced or forgotten or discarded?

She seems hurt as well, I don't know that she has the space in her head to be as hurt as I am. She's always been better at cutting off than I am. But she is hurt, this much I know.

Maybe at the back of my head I'm thinking, you will read this. And then at least you will know how I feel. But then at the back of my head I also know that you've stopped reading, stopped caring. So you won't ever know.

It's been nearly two years since things went rocky. And if I'm being honest, they were bad for quite a while before that. We never came back from the time that you abandoned me when she did. She and I came back. You and I never did.

Somewhere I think, I was just a convenience. I loved her, you loved her, so you took me on because I came with the package. Now that I think about it, there was never anything special about you and me, no timeless bond, not according to you at least.

I don't do this, I'm not this girl. I dislike this vulnerability, this flowery, precious writing in whimsical verses. I am coarse and angry, and always protected by my own paranoia, bulwarked against all manner of emotional pain.

And yet this has pierced through all of that. I can not believe I have allowed this to happen. How could I?

I just told someone that this is my attempt to unburden, this touchy feely letter to the internet, so I that I am not some bitter, jaded shrew somewhere down the line.

I am already that, aren't I?

I felt indifferent before, but now I am a mixture of angry and upset. Deeply angry and deeply upset.

I should be used to people going away by now, 'Life sucks and then you die', right? Everybody else left, why should you be any different.

You are different, you were one of very very few, one of my own, my people.

When I left you, for a little while, I told you why, I let you know how much I loved you. You just stopped responding, stopped calling. Do you even know how long it's been since we've spoken?

You just disappeared as if I wasn't even worthy or deserving of a goodbye and a reason.

I don't know what else to say. I know these feelings will subside, will abate, all in given time. And the You-shaped hole will be papered over with other things, with scabs and daily routine. I know that this will one day just be another fact of my life, like my giant feet and my brown eyes. That in itself is a painful fact.

Honestly, I really did not think that it would all end this way. Or end at all.