I have laid awake here for hours. Jet lag is a bitch.
For some reason I can only think of you, and how you are probably not thinking of me. The most depressing thing is that you will never know this. You will never so much as receive a hint of how sorely I am missing you.
I have thought many times about just calling. I almost have a couple times when I have had too many drinks to count.
I haven’t cared for anyone since you, you know. Not at all really. I have tried. I have forced myself to make an effort to feel emotion for another woman.
I truly am dead inside.
I have been on autopilot since you left. Since you stopped calling. Since you stopped sending texts of only a _ and a 3. You took the part of me that loved with you. Tell him I say hi if you two still talk. Tell him that I miss him terribly but that I would much rather he stay with you than to return empty handed. I hope to see him again at some point in this life. I hope to see you both truthfully.
Until then I am lessened, I am lost, I am still completely and utterly living in your letters.