or lonely,
or alone,
... I miss the Him I thought he was.
Sometimes,
when I'm afraid,
I call friends who cleaned up his mess to make sure that he's really dead.
Sometimes,
not very often,
only a few times actually,
sometimes, I wish I could see him one more time.
I've opened boxes that I found buried deep in a closet this weekend. Inside were pictures and his hand writing and his clothes and his glasses and more photos and memories boxed and hidden for over a year.........
Memories of mine that never really existed in his heart. Memories of a life together that was a lie. Why can't people ever be what you hope them to be?
Sometimes, I look at the life I'm living now and wonder why he couldn't ever let us live as we do now?
Sometimes I wonder why I have to be so alone in the world.
Why could I never make him happy?
Sometimes, when I'm feeling overwhelmed with the world at all of it's decisions and directions and paths, I wish he had been the man I wanted him to be.
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