It's funny. It's always funny how life likes to rip into me. I feel lonely. And I have someone. But she had to deal with life and will be away for an uncertain length of time. I miss her. I want her next to me. Learning her... feeling her... breathing in her scent... Tasting her lips. I smile as I remember her gentle words. How I matter to her.

But that's what scares me. Those words were said to me quite often in the past. Sworn upon and promised with the deepest of situation dependent sincerity. Because they left me. They left me, hard. In no way were they gentle and in no way did they try to ease their breaking every promise they ever made. They almost broke me even further. Perhaps they did.

What I don't understand is why I can't shake the feelings that I have? I miss them sure. I don't lie to myself. I'm not trying to pretend like the relationships didn't exist. I'm not trying to forget. But.... healing is naught but impossible at this point. I shared so much with them, that every other thought somehow is connected to them. Who cares, right? Not them. I've been all but forgotten entirely, and yet here I sit, making another pointless homage to them like they will ever feel what I feel. Because it absolutely is not in the past tense. I don't work like that.

This loneliness is hard to deal with, but I deal. Somehow. Through my painful struggles with my actual life and my daughter consuming the majority of my thoughts; When I sit back and ask myself... why am I so alone in dealing with any of this... I can't seem to answer it. And the thing is... I'm not alone. I have someone who gets upset because she's not able to be here for me. To talk. To share. To learn. But her life has to come first before anything with us can be focused on... I just want her near.

I feel the familiar yearning... for the company of her, the person that makes me feel like I am more than another name. And this helpless yearning eats at me. Reminds me of my past... and I ask myself... things that I don't like. I've been made to feel replaceable and unimportant before. I pray that doesn't happen again. I'm so terrified. Afraid... that the same will happen... but I'm pressing on. I have to. I owe that to myself.

I owe thanks to those who tread on the shards of what's been left of my heart. You taught me that I'm still alive. And that I can feel. I just wish I didn't miss such hurtful people. What good is it doing me? Hoping the best for them, and wishing the best to them should be enough for my soul to rest... something takes this away.

Take your memories.

I don't need them.