1 Year, 4 Months and 21 Days

It has been 1 year, 4 months and 21 days of living without him.
Things should have changed. They have.
Things should have changed. Yet they haven’t.
I thought I would be depressed. I don’t know if I am.
I thought I would be happy. But I could be happier.

It has been 1 year, 4 months and 21 days of living without him.
I’m still the same person that nobody knows.
He’s still the same person that I fell in love with.
But we grew up. Drastically.
We grew up. Individually.
We grew up. I’m just hoping we don’t grow apart.

It has been 1 year, 4 months and 21 days of living without him.
He is still right about that void within me.
He is still right about my hypocrisy.
He is still right about how I am running away.
I hope I am not right about us falling apart.

It has been 1 year, 4 months and 21 days of living without him.
Today, I gave my last exam.
I should want to go out and ‘chill’ and ‘hangout’ the way I always dreamed of but never could.
I should want to have the kind of fun I always saw him have on the last day of his exams.
But strangely. I am stuck with an odd sensation of nostalgia.
I didn’t expect, that looking back, the ‘boring’ way in which I spent my holidays: watching movies, finishing novels, hopelessly waiting for his reply at 4 a.m. in the morning, going down to meet him, repeat.
Would actually ever make me feel sad.
But it does.
I want to do those things. Those things are me.
Even though he always thought they were boring.

It has been 1 year, 4 months and 21 days of living without him.
I’m still counting.
I’m still hoping.
I’m still waiting.
I don’t want to lose count.
Or, him.
Or, my feelings.

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