I know I should be coasting on the fact that in a month I have lost 26 pounds, that today I got asked to go on a picnic by a younger man and I finally got to see the movie I have been wanting to see for weeks. But you know what, it still doesn’t feel right or better, you aren’t here. I feel guilty for getting asked out, for “leading someone on”. I can’t all myself up in concrete and still give out I Love You’s. You voice reduces me to tears and when we fall into us it feels right, but I wish I could see it through your eyes. Which is why the third book that I am writing has started to process in my head. A book that is completely fiction, except when it not. Following the life of a character that is almost completely fiction, except when she’s not. Our story, on paper. Because it’s all I have left. Because I don’t know if I could look at you and not see my Prince Charming. Because I don’t see you as a friend I can’t, I want you to sweep me into your arms and kiss me one last time to prove that I’m either crazy or you still have those feelings for me. I’ve learned so much and keep learning and I am not going to stop. But this is a shell of a house that is no longer a home because you are no longer here…



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