Fairytales do come true, and Stephen was my Prince Charming. And let me tell you, I kissed a LOT of frogs to find my Prince. What happens when the fairy tale ends? When happily ever after…is over?
I keep a picture of him on my nightstand, and I tell him good night and give him a kiss every night. And if I pretend that he’s there cuddling me, who can judge me for that?
I’m doing the right things, I’m working through my grief, moving on and crafting something good from the ashes of my dreams.
There is this weight that drags me down. There is a ball and chain attached to my ankle, and I’m limping through the days, dragging it behind me. The pain never leaves. It never. leaves. How do people co-exist with such a massive thing? It has hollowed me out, and left me so empty inside. I am functioning (mostly)… but it’s still so fucking raw. When does it start to hurt less?
In 3 days it will be 8 months since I lost my love. I don’t remember a lot of what went on the past 8 months, and I think that’s a blessing. He’s gone from me, and I’m so angry and hurt and resentful and bewildered and lonely and frightened and overwhelmed.
When does it start to hurt less?