I thought living on my own for the week would be empowering. Turns out it’s just lonely.
When this place holds so many amazing memories, it’s horrible to be in it alone.
When I walk around all I can do is remember everything. The good and the bad.
With him.
I remember the littlest things he did. Here. There. I remember where we fought, where we made up, where we said goodbye.
With them.
Singing. Drinking. Having a good time, reminding me that there is much more fun to be had in our short lives. With me.
There doesn’t seem to be much. Just this emptiness and longing for other people.