I can't write you off. I can't say that you were just another boy; or another fling. I can't erase the four years and one month that I proudly called you mine... All those years that you claimed me. I can't say that you were just a secret that got out. I can't say any of these things and that bothers me.
At the time of writing this I have been alive for 266 months. You were with me for 49 of them. That is roughly 18.42% of my life.
I learned that in the math class that you didn't see me pass.
Before you came along I slept in the middle of my full size bed. I slept like a rock, which led to there being a hole in the middle of my bed and everyone joked that no one could wake me up once I was out. But then my bed became our bed. We each had a side and we would enter dream comas together. Now you're gone and I still stay on my side of the bed; leaving the other side empty or occupied by the two pillows that were considered yours. I'm no longer a deep sleeper or dreamer, now everyone jokes that they never see me sleep at all.
There are so many things that make me think about you.
Your clothes in a box in my sisters room.
Every restaurant in New York City.
Edison and Perth Amboy, New Jersey.
Six Flags Great Adventure.
The plants that you once bought me as gifts. The plants you helped me pick out for my 20th birthday. The plant nursery.
My ipad, its case and the computer mouse.
The games sitting on my desktop.
Your contact on my phone and all the texts and pictures I won't delete because I am a hoarder of memories both good and bad.
The rings and all the other jewelry you gave me that sits in their boxes in my closet collecting dust.
The dent on the side of my car.
January 11th.
The year 2016.
Throughout our time together I don't want to only remember the good. There was more than enough bad.
The fights we had. The accounts and messages kept hidden. The times we avoided each other.
When you jumped out of my car, when you pushed me off your bed. When I hit you in the balls, when you grabbed me by my wrists. When we had hate in our hearts.
When you left my stomach aches left too.
I don't want you to think that I am better without you. I am different without you. I am cold without you. But I became a fighter without you.
When I see couples get married after a year or two I am so happy for them but I am overwhelmed with fear. I thought we would be the ones everyone looked at and admired. The high school sweethearts that met in middle school and lived happily ever after. I had faith in us. Now I don't believe that I could ever dedicate myself to someone like that again. I hate the idea of marriage. I wanted you for life and look where that got me.
My biggest fear is that I will recover from this breakup, but you won't.
I want this breakup to recover you... make you learn and make you give every great part of you, that you gave me and more to the next girl.
Because at the end of the day all I ever wanted was for you to be happy.
