Userpics have now been deleted, letters he wrote to me have been stashed away for no sooner than twenty years, and voicemails... the really sweet ones that you save and can't force yourself to delete? Deleted. The fact that I'm cleaning my apartment is not going to make this easy. I'll keep coming across items of his (which I'm putting in a trash bag because they fit, not because I plan to throw them away). When I'm all packed up and everything of his is out, I'll put it on his doorstep sometime when I know he's at work.

I feel empty. Maybe because I haven't eaten in 40 hours, but probably because I lost the biggest part of my life, and rather suddenly. I've been awake for atleast an hour, though, and I haven't cried yet. That's either a step in the right direction, or me refusing to let my emotions out, which could be a problem, I suppose.

When my mind is wandering and even when it's not, I keep thinking about him. Oddly, I keep imagining this one "stage" of him, when he had longer hair and a beard. Has it been that long since I was truly happy? Or is that just how I'd like to remember him, how I liked him best? Whether that's the case or not, those same memories keep coming into my head. People make reality and the past what they want it to be, and although I KNOW the reasons we shouldn't be together, I have a very hard time seeing that any of them are because of him. It's a curse, but I'm only remembering the good stuff, and missing it so clearly.

Perhaps my judgement is off, but I think I might be a better writer as this twisted, tortured soul. Maybe that makes sense.

I appreciate all the kind words and support, I do, but it's about as helpful as seeing someone with a mangled arm and saying, "wow, that must have hurt." Of course it did, thanks for pointing it out.