Hopeless Fanatic

It really doesn’t get easier. You get used to it, that’s true. But it’s not easier. It still hurts, a lot. I miss you every single day. Just talking to you. You know, I knew we talked about nothing but jobs, and for neither of us, but seriously just the fact that you even thought to ask me was nice. And thanked me and really seemed to appreciate it. Something that simple and that small was nice, because at least it was something. I know we’d talk more, a lot even, if things were different. I know we would and you know we would. That’s why it sucks. Because you purposely say as little as possible and I can’t say half of what I want to. It turns into this talking just to talk, searching for something you can say sort of thing. And that makes it even worse. And I know I’m not the only one who feels that way. I think I feel that way more, a lot more, but yeah. Whatever. I miss you, and at least I can say that here. There’s so much I have to tell you. And my to send folder of bookmarks is probably at 200+ items by now. When I let myself think about things, it’s awful. Today was pretty bad. I don’t know what caused it, but I thought about… well whatever I don’t even want to write it down. But I’m afraid. Don’t. Just don’t, if it comes up. Please, please let it work out. This sucks so much.