I'm getting used to sleeping alone again. I don't like to be, or want to be, but I'm used to it. At first the absence of another person was palpable, an ache. It's started to dissipate though, becoming a fuzzy memory again. Something that happened to me in another life.
The what and why of this life are hard though. I want him so much, always. If he falls asleep on the couch I sit and trace the lines of his face with my eyes and it makes me burn inside. I want him, his skin, his breath, his arms around me. I know better though. Despite the litany of self-hate it brings up in me, the never ending questions of "why did it all change" and of course, the ever popular "what's wrong with me".
Still though, my symbiotic counterpart is by my side. Helping me in whatever ways he can, and I appreciate that. And just like always I don't want to give it all up and have nothing at all, so I'll just keep hoping that one day it'll go back to how it was in the beginning, or blossom into something new and better.
