Everyone has (at least) one of these:

Letter from a broken heart:

Every now and then, the foundation shakes. It makes me stop and think, or rather re- think. It makes life seem too long and too short in the same moment. I re- evaluate the time gone by, I re-evaluate the time I am waiting for you. The uncertainty of everything makes the past feel like fiction and the future a grim certainty.

And even though I don’t want you, it is the habit of you that I crave. I go running to you in my head. Like a child, to boast about some joy, like winning a race on Sports day is the biggest achievement, or cry to you about a paper cut being equivalent to life not being fair.

Bottom line is, since you came into my life, created a space for yourself and left, it has never been the same. You there or not there, the craving remains. I don’t even know why anymore. It has been too long.

You are too delicious a habit to break. It is like solitude, I love it and loathe it at the same time. 

We have taken separate paths, yours leads down to a repulsive life, mine leads up to an aspirational existence. But still, I want to share everything with you. Tell you all. My biggest triumphs and deepest despairs seem to be conjured till I don’t share them with you. You validate me. A woman, who couldn’t give a flying fuck about validation, feels completely handicapped without your acknowledgement. It is sad and frustrating, everyone tells me it means I don’t value myself enough. Give self enough credit, I am told. I do, but dammit, I still picture goals with you. So dammit, I want to keep you in the loop. Just incase, you look back and change your mind. Pathetic? I care not. Feelings are feelings; they don’t have logical analysis liberty available to them. We do stupid things when it comes to how we feel. We make the most obnoxious excuse in the name of feelings and pass it off as logic.

I don’t know where you are; I do know you are far from me. The connect is lost. But the memories remain. Sometimes fresh, sometimes faded. But they never leave. So I sway between taunts of hope and raptures of delusion. You are never coming back. Never. Such a harsh word. With a context shift from “never leave you” to “never coming back,” the foundation is shaken. What to believe? To be called hopeful or foolish?

There seems to be a shore somewhere, but I only want a harbor with you. Will I wait endlessly just to have an abruptly early ending? Is the best yet to come or are my best days behind me?