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Sunday, August 2, 2015

When I said I didn't want to see you, I didn't mean forever. But here we are today, separated by the wind and the stars and all the oceans combined, and there's no number on speed dial to fix whatever has been broken.

I want to tell you that I've spent the last four years looking for the piece of myself that has gone missing with you. Today, I might have finally found it, but I'm realizing how ugly that part might be. I have to tell you what the years have done to me, how much they've let the darkness consume me in my desperate attempts to find the light.

I did find the light. It was beautiful and blinding and rage inducing at the same time, and even now, I'm wondering how that could be. I find it curious to see that it is possible to live life without the core of your very being. Half of it you took six feet under with you, the other half I gave away to someone who hardly cares.

Let me tell you about the light. The light is a boy who had dark hair and brown eyes, and a life long death wish. He hops on roofs and rears of moving trains for fun. He rides his bike so fast, you can feel the wind cut your skin if he ever drives by you. He likes Chuck Taylors, I think he has every color, but his favorite is the navy blue one, even though you can't tell its original color anymore because he has worn it one too many times.

He was, for me, the sound of thunder rumbling far in the distance, but sounding so near, I jumped up my seat every time. He was the lightning that cracked my bright blue sky - showing up out of nowhere just when I thought it was a clear summer day, but oh, how I love the rain. 

I thought the light was like the sun - he was just as bright, but I was wrong to make him one. 

I couldn't tell you how dead I am inside even if I tried, but if you were here, you'd know. You were the sound my favorite book makes when I turned the page, absently, for I was always so engrossed in the story. You were the quiet sigh when the day has been challenging and I've finally found my comfort. 

I'm not saying I'm turning my back on the light, believe me, I tried. More than once. I'm just saying right now, I'm yearning for that comfort. To feel safe, for once. To let go of the anchor after years of sailing the sea. To get off the roller coaster, to catch my breath.

It's time to catch my breath, because right now, I don't have you, and the light is killing me.

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