When you left the second time around, i didn't know what to do with myself. I was broken, hopeless, hurt, cold, scared, depressed... I just wanted you back. I would unfriend you from Facebook and msn hoping that you'd miss me, or that something in your stupid brain would click and you'd want me again. I would spend my days just sitting in my room, thoughts running through my mind like a busy highway. I would just cry, and cry, and cry. And just when time had passed and i was finally getting better, something would set me off and i'd pour my heart out. And then i would move on again, and then i would relapse and dream of you. And then i would get hurt and move on again, and then something would set me off two months later and i'd be back to talking to you. I was pathetic, i'll be the first to admit it. But a broken heart makes you do unthinkable things. It makes you crazy. For the longest time, i just felt broken. That's the only way to describe it. I wanted to give up on my life, on my heart, on love, on men. I would go out, have too many drinks, be with guys, lead them on, play with their heads... just to get back in some way, even if it wasn't directly to you. I wanted to be heartless. I truly felt like I would never feel for another man the way i felt for you, so why even bother trying? I felt like a zombie. Actually, i just felt nothing at all. You were moving on with your life. You were now a stranger. You were happy without me. And time just slowed down for me.
It's been 8 months since you left me. It's been a month and a half since my last relapse over you. I'm finally getting the cue to move on. My heart is finally getting tired of beating in hopes that you'll come back. My mind is finally tired of replaying memories and haunting me with dreams. My fingers are finally tired of typing out your phone number. My lips are finally tired of craving yours. I'm getting there. Slowly but surely, time is crawling on, but even crawling is moving forward.
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