And suddenly my life was split in two.
From then on, I didn’t think of things in a timely manner anymore.
I only saw things as they happened. Things that happened before him. And then there were the things that happened after him. Everything was before or after.
I would listen to a song, maybe for the millionth time. And I would think about whether the first time I listened to it, was before him or after him. I would read the poetry I wrote and slowly lose my breath when something I wrote before him somehow came to be about me after him. It was the small things, like opening my planner to a month in which I hadn’t met him yet or wearing a shirt that I had worn when he’d been around, those small things made me lose it, made me lose him, all over again. Time with him was so short, and I am afraid that time after him will be longer than the time before him.

And then there was the future.
I had to talk about the future, my future, but in my mind, it was only our future that I had planned out. Now I have to scroll past these months and make appointments without him. I don’t have to ask him if he has worked, I don’t get to hope that he’ll take me on a surprise getaway. Now it’s just me and these damn days. I stumbled across May today and all I could feel was the absence of him. May had always been ours. May was me in his arms and him around my waist. May was the mountains and the lake and the bears. May was meeting his mother and hearing his songs on road trips. May was his name next to mine. May was us.

And now I was here, lost in a goddamn month, all the way across the earth.
But he was this month, whereas he was supposed to be a life. I could see us in my eyes when I looked in the mirror. I could feel us in my heart when I woke up. I could hear us in my tears as they fell down. But for him, I was just a month, hell, probably just a few days. Days that passed like all others. Hours that ticked away as he walked by.
But not for me.
For me, he was forever
And how he still is.

He became June over September. And then he became Halloween. He became thanksgiving, the day I was just about the opposite of thankful. And after that, he became my birthday. Surrounded by love but from the wrong people. He became all these days, morning and night. I wanted to cancel time, I wanted to burn it to the ground. Simply because time was now my own. I thought of him during the day and he was sleeping. I dreamt of him during the night and he’d be with someone else. Time didn’t line up for us anymore. My time with him was stolen and I’ll never get my past back. And I’ll lose my mind if anyone ever mentions again that I shouldn’t throw away my future over him. Well, it was supposed to be our future, so I’ll be damned if he doesn’t become fireworks on New Year’s Eve. I’ll be lost if he doesn’t become flowers on Valentine’s Day and I’ll be gone if he doesn’t become next year in May.

All I am is me after him, something that is still so much easier to write down than me without him.

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This article was written by @writingaboutyou on the We Heart It Writers Team.