There was a day a few months before you left when you told me that sex together just felt right and that we were best friends and my brain never stopped hearing you call us soulmates and then bounce. I couldn’t convince you. I need to let us go. It’s been four years and nothing will ever be the same again we’ll never even live in the same place again. I don’t know why I still love you but its well past time I stop talking about it, even to no one where no one will find it.

It’s unusual to know you’re going to lose someone months before you do so really it’s no surprise I can’t forget you when I spent countless hours trying to memorize your body until my time was up.

Most days I think this is all just me entertaining a harmless fantasy of what we could’ve been, but then a post I haven’t seen in four years pops up in my memories and damn is that knife still sharp.

I think I drove myself insane trying to save us because I didn’t want to end up questioning my entire life if you ever walked back into it. Losing you knowing I’d hold onto that what if forever will always threaten whatever stability I’ve managed to build up over the last four years.