Sometimes, I miss my old life. I miss the familiarity. I miss the sameness of the days, knowing what to expect, knowing how to plan for things. I miss the companionship, I miss the days when it was good and hopeful and beautiful.
I miss my apartment. It was beautiful, although over-stuffed and crowded. But it was home. I don’t have a home anymore. I have a room in a temporary home.
I miss the comforts of having a life with someone. I miss the limits, in a weird way, and someone to set boundaries with me. I know those boundaries almost killed me but I miss having a litmus test to bounce things off of.
I miss the person I married. Not who he became at the end, but the man I said yes to. I miss that hope, that anticipation of what we would do together.
I miss having a life that I knew. This life now is scary and empty and frighteningly open. I can’t see a future right now, it’s all so far away and unattainable. There is no comfort, no familiarity, no home. I’m drifting through a life I don’t understand and I am very afraid. But though there are arms out there to hold for a moment, there aren’t any here in the middle of the darkness and the fear. It’s just me. And I’m not sure I can make it through the darkness and the fear. Because the reward doesn’t seem worth it.
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