Just found this on my favourite blog. Made me cry.
A year since he kissed me, one month since he left me, two weeks, one day, four hours, seventeen minutes, and thirty-six seconds since he left us all. The hours keep moving along now, but the sun setting and rising, setting and rising is the only sign that time is still passing at all. I spend all my time at home; all I ever want to do is sleep. I don't go out with my friends, I don't feel like dancing, I can't focus on anything because I'm so goddamn tired of fighting that I've given up and I hate myself for it. I miss him, I have missed him, and missing him has become this dull aching hole in my chest, this feeling that comes in waves and bowls me over and makes me shake. I see pictures of him that make me cry and I think that I really fucked up and I wonder who I am and why I'm not doing absolutely everything I can to fix it, but then I realize that I can fix a lot of things, but his death is not one of them.
To every girl or boy or woman or man reading this: the biggest mistake you will ever make is letting fear of I love you stop you from saying it. I was afraid, but he thought that meant I didn't care. After a while, he gave up and it hurt him too much to stay. The only thing keeping me going when he left was the knowledge that he was the person I was meant to be with so in a little while, whether it be days or months or years, I would get another chance. I knew this so clearly that even when life felt so hard without him, I kept my chin up and the tears off my face because I knew he would be back. I forgot that life is fragile, hearts are only protected by a thin little cage of bones, people are born and die every day. I never once thought that I wouldn't get that second chance. I lived on it, it kept me breathing, and now that he is really gone I can't live without it.
-lelove
