It’s so true. You don’t actually know what you had, until you’ve lost it. I don’t think I fully understood, till I lost him, yet I knew, when I had him, exactly what I had. Nothing makes sense when you’ve lost the one you care about. Your life continues without a doubt, but everything’s half empty. You used to be whole and full of yourself. They were the other half, and they’ve disappeared. One person you relied and called on for help or someone to be there without having to think twice. Share some information without feeling ashamed or upset, knowing that they’ll always be there for you, through everything. Getting to have a person in your life that you know better than yourself or family. Someone you never had to second guess how they felt. Speaking to them, always made the days go too fast. How they felt and thought influenced everything you done in your life. One person that you could spend forever with and never feel bored around. Everything they said amazed you. You have many people around you with welcoming grins, yet all you really want and think about is smiling at him. However mad you feel by thinking it, it’s out of your depth, your mind. Life trots on, the same familiar places and faces, but there’s always one voice or face you automatically can pick from the crowd, their face. Your mind will think exactly what it wants; they say your mind and thoughts are your wishes. I find you hold onto everything with the useless tips of your fingers because what you have, you treasure so much, and your biggest fear is loosing that one. Then, you loose them. It’s like in the distance you know what you want, but everything is cloudy, like it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, another time. Yet your mind still concentrates on it, what you had. Memories turn out to be everything.
They turn out to be more than you ever thought would be possible. That scares you when you used to be so sure; it’s even scarier when you don’t expect what jumps out at you. The wheels keep turning, nothing is ever over. Always on the edge hoping something will change or something will end up making sense, but how long will we keeps waiting? It’s harder to pretend you’re not affected; even smiling becomes a chore and your head just constantly wants to zone out, noise irritate the peace of mind; music always sings the wrong lyrics. When the only thing that makes you happy, is thinking, daydreaming. Daydreaming is bizarre as it takes your thoughts and elaborates on the details, yet making it the perfect ending. There is no perfect ending, not when you’ve lost him. I’ve been living in a bubble.
All emotions you remember having, everything you remember doing and saying. Knowing how you used to be before the incident hurts. Words don’t really explain the feeling of being hurt. Your stomach pulled into tight knots. A feeling of hope? Sadness? You’ve never noticed that you could actually feel this bad about a person. Needing someone person so much. Feeling like life’s come to an end without them. As if there is no point. Everything seems pointless. Constantly feeling tired and weak without them in your life.
But you carry on, well try to. Just staring and hoping one day you’ll snap out of what you feel. Finding anything and everything to distract yourself from the real problem. You’re missing them. Burying your head in somewhere and acting as if you’re having the time of your life sounds like the best idea you can think of, yet many people can probably see right through this mask. But keep it cool and continue, maybe one day we’ll get to the stage of where I’ll begin to believe it myself. It’s not really the start is it? But, they’ll be no words to explain how I am feeling.
I’ve even tried convincing myself that I hate him. Many people would understand this, but to me it’s un-comprehensible. To think I could hate someone I love so much, as too much of my knowledge hate is love in its most negative form. Yet deep down nothing’s really changed. Yet, everything’s changed, now that I’ve lost you. I never truly understood just how much you meant to me, yet I did.
