I told you I didn't trust myself to be alone the day you made me watch you leave through the screen door. maybe it was the night terrors or maybe it was the mediocre birthday cakes, but you never thought I was worth enough to explain. I laid on my bathroom floor for 6 days straight the following week. I didn't cry over you, don't worry. but I definitely didn't bother to eat over you, either. I stopped showering for the most part and only drank whiskey. I forgot to pay the electric bill and screamed for hours in the dark on my own hoping you'd show up to fix it. you didn't. I think I realized you were really gone when your mom stopped calling to see how I was 'holding up'. when our friends stopped inviting me to the parties to save you the awkward encounter. it took me 3 months to throw away your old clothes I was sleeping in. I'd be lying if I said I dumped them all, you know how much I loved that crew neck sweatshirt from Chicago. but, I shed as much of you as I could bare. I washed the sheets for the first time 2 weeks after that. I cried the whole time and couldn't sleep in the bed for days because it didn't smell like you anymore. it's been almost 6 months and I'm doing better. I changed our voice mail and took down your photos. I stopped waking up in a sweat with your name stuck between my teeth. I've started to drive again. since you walked out that screen door I realized it's not that I can't trust myself alone, it's that I always thought you were what made me better and ******* was I wrong.