I slept most of the day. When I first woke up, I felt good. As the hours passed, I felt more vulnerable; exhausted, confused, stressed, and anxious. Then I accidentally saw a picture of you. I felt alone and embarrassed and fell back to sleep, wanting to escape the reality of having lost you. It shouldn’t be this hard.
You look incredible. You look like light. Your hair is the most perfect hair I’ve seen, even though it didn’t always look that way. It’s different now, but it’s so you. Keep it like that, please.
Your eyes are big and brighter than the last time I saw them in person. I can tell that you’re happy. I looked at your picture for long moments, wondering if when you close your big, bright eyes, you ever see me.
I saw another picture where you’re touching her leg, down by her feet. You used to touch me there. She’s impressed with your handy work, just like I used to be. She wrote something that I used to say to you. You’d laugh when I’d say it, and I know you laugh when she says the same thing. I wonder if because she and I said the same thing, if you think I’m less special now — less rare. Or, I wonder if you find comfort in knowing you found someone else just like me, even if it’s only a tiny part of me. I wonder if she reminds you of me. Or maybe now, if you ever think of me, I remind you of her.
You spent Thanksgiving with her family, I think. You have her over for beer and TV shows that you wouldn’t watch if it wasn’t for her. She just got a new job, and you took her out to celebrate. I just got a new job, and if we were together, I wonder if you would have taken me out to celebrate. I’m scared that you’ll forget about me, if you haven’t already.
I woke up uneasy and upset with myself. The sun had gone down by the time I opened my eyes. I turned on my light and forced myself to look in the mirror. This is who I am and this is how I feel, and part of me thinks I’ll always be this way, a wreck of a person who has a hard time falling in love because you’re the only love I’ve ever known. It’s been years and I’m embarrassed but I think I have a problem.
But then I see you holding her hand, like you used to hold mine, except it isn’t mine at all. And that makes me certain that you can’t be it for me. There has to be someone out there who won’t let go when I stray.