Weeks. It's been weeks since I last felt his touch, felt the way his fingertips skimmed across my cheek just before he leaned in to kiss me. And yet here I am, another night spent drunk and medicated, alone in bed. Staring blankly at the ceiling, wondering where the fuck it all went wrong. Numb to everything around me, I'm stuck in a perpetual cycle of going through the motions of my day to day activities. All without any true emotions. I am blank. Plastering on a fake smile to make it through, forcing laughter to avoid the barrage of "What's wrong?" and "Are you okay?" questions. No. I don't need any of that. Not now. Not when I'm trying to start fresh in a new city away from any and everyone I once knew. 

Memories of us were just that, memories. Nothing more. Our photos served as a painful and constant reminder of what could have been. What could have been, but what is no more. I can't bare to take them down because that means it's truly over. Never before have I wanted to hold on to something so hard in my life. I needed the reminder. The pain they cause is my only indication that I'm still alive. That searing pain in my chest. Immersing myself in school and work, anything that can keep me busy, but he's still there. Still lingering in the back of my mind, every perfect detail of his face etched into the back of my eyelids. I see him every time I close my eyes. I can still feel his skin beneath my fingertips as I idly trace the intricate ink lines across his toned chest. I feel his hands in my hair while I sleep, and wake thinking this whole thing is just one big nightmare. Disappointment immediately setting in the moment I realize it's reality and he's not here. The other side of the bed is cold and empty. 

Everything around me reminds me of him. I can smell his cologne everywhere, I see strangers with his face from a distance. The hope that rises immediately falls as they draw close, his image fading into the distance. I hear his voice all around me. I can't even walk down the street without hearing his footsteps behind me. Each time desperately hoping that when I turn around he's going to be standing there, smiling and waiting with open arms for me to run in to. And every single time, I am disappointed. That disappointment slices through me like a machete each time. Every cut a little deeper and more painful than the last. I wrap my arms around myself, a weak attempt at holding myself together. Anything to not fall apart in the middle of the street for everyone to see. In reality I'm crumbling at my own feet. 

He had broken through every stone wall I had spent my entire life building up around myself. He hacked his way through the brush to get to me. We promised we'd never hurt each other, promised we'd always be together. All promises we both broke. I once thought we could make it through anything, but I was wrong. Forever is bullshit, and promises mean nothing. At some point all promises are broken. People always leave. It's what they're good at. Leaving is easier than staying and facing the storm. I'm just as guilty of running, but this time I only ran once he was already gone. Running was easier than staying and seeing him with someone else.

I never truly knew what it felt like to be lost until now. I'm lost without him. There's a gaping hole in my chest that aches constantly, and as I lay here resting a hand on my flat stomach, I can't help but wonder what life I can possibly give this tiny human growing inside of me. What kind of life can I give the product of US when there is no more US? There's barely even a ME anymore. I'm empty. And he doesn't even know. He has no clue that there may be a mini US running around in the near future. Do I bring this innocent little creature into this world knowing that I'll never be able to give it the love it deserves?

Nothing makes sense anymore. I'm at a loss, and for the first time in a long time I don't know what to do about anything. My muse is gone. My mind in a constant state of disarray, plagued by thoughts and images of him. Of us. My head throbs and my heart aches. My fingers curl into the soft fabric of his shirt, I can't bring myself to get rid of it. It's all I have left. It still holds his scent, and it comforts me enough to get some semblance of sleep at night. Tomorrow I make my decision. Do I stay lost or try to fight my way out of the darkness? Right now I don't know what is right, and I don't have anyone who can help me, no one to tell me what I should do, or at the very least coax me towards the right direction. I am completely alone. Afraid. Angry. Confused. And oh so very lost.