I'm not sure why I'm writing this now. I'm not even sure I'll publish it. And even if I do, it wouldn't matter, would it? I do not know why I'm thinking of you now. Why, right now, I look back at what has happened and realize how much you mean to me. How I will never be able to move away from you, no matter how hard I try. How I can not bring myself to be the sane guy that you used to love because I lost my sanity over you. I only wish there was something I could do. Or undo. To make you mine. Something. Anything. A part of me thinks you were right to do what you did. Quite pragmatic, after all. And my head totally agrees with you. But my heart needs you and refuses to stay put. Refuses to even reconsider. I've given up trying to convince you. I've also given up trying to convince myself otherwise. I do not know where this will go. I only know that without you, it doesn't matter where I go.
A journey's joy derives not from the path travelled, but from the company kept. Now you're gone. And life goes by, second by excruciating second, a thorny prickly path. You are out of my life. But not out of my heart. And to live every moment is death all over again. I miss you. Come back.
No questions, please.
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