I wish she would stop telling me it will get
better as if I'll wake up one day and all the missing, all
the longing will have magically ceased to throb against my
ribcage and churn knots in my stomach, storms behind my tear
ducts. You get over losing a jaded, bitter adolescent
a.sshole who
didn't want or reciprocate your love (I've had to
before, and it hurt nothing like this). You don't get over
losing an innocent child who did nothing but love you and make
your soul the happiest it had ever been with another. You
don't get over having the purest, most unselfish
relationship in your life abruptly taken from you when it could
have and should have lasted much longer. This brand of
heartache doesn't fade completely, and attempts to beat it
into me that it will with something as inconsequential and
arguably nonexistent as ‘time’ won't act as a
dissolvent.
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