At the end of the day

I came home today and there was no one to tell everything to.

No one to bear witness to my life.

Sure, I have friends, very good ones at that. But they're not your life witness, the one who will know everything about you and make sure you know everything about them too. With friends, there comes a point where your life details become TMI.

I miss smelling him. His voice. His arms, his lips, the weird fabric-feel of the skin on his arm. The way he smiles when he's acting cute. The way he guffaws when I laugh at one of his bad jokes.

I miss talking with him.

I think the difference between this breakup and previous ones is that this time, I wasn't prepared to be single again ever in my life (unless he died before I did). Previously, when I'd gotten over the breakups, being single again was pretty cool and sometimes a relief. But this time round, being in the relationship was a relief in the first place, and for the first time in my life, I didn't have to hold anything back.

Perhaps that's only a dream. Perhaps no one should be able to fully be themselves with anyone - and those who do are only living a dream. Maybe it's my lot to always have to keep my life to myself, to be repressive and bottle up always. That's a shitty thought.

I'm not sure if I love him anymore, which probably means I don't, not after all this hurt and betrayal. But by golly, I miss him.