There are so many things I want to say to you. Late at night, the words race around in my head so quickly I can’t even form a coherent sentence. I look for you outside, a glance of your profile or the shape of your car.
For a while I was afraid I’d end up outside your apartment, tears streaming down my face. I’m stronger than that. I need to be stronger than that. You gave me no choice.
You will never read this, but it feels good to write it.