Lewis.

He really hurt me when he left, I admitted it to almost everyone, but I don't think they really understand that I mean it. I can tell. The way they look at me, they don't consider the pain I might or might not feel, their eyes don't ask me how I am when their mouths are pretending I am fine by nattering on and on. It's horrible that I don't care for what they say, I'm healing.

They try to tell me I need someone else, try to get me to flirt and put myself on the market, I am young I know, I am foolish I know, but can you not consider for even five minutes that perhaps I planned to be young and foolish with him no matter how wise or old I become, can you not just understand for five minutes that I'm not interested in sleeping with another boy to forget the boy I lost. I'm not interested in meeting new people or winking at the guy that was checking me out all day from across the Starbucks store, because no matter how available I am right now, I still belong with that one guy, the one who ignored me most of the time and was too wrapped up in his own stuff to acknowledge my existence.

It upset me the majority of the time, that he didn't look at me when I would wander in to check on him, it upset me that I put myself out and allowed him to be my everything, and he was, my everything. When he left he took everything with him, everything that mattered to me, and that was him, just him, and now I sit here and stare at all my material possessions and think, "I would give all this to have him back." XBOX 360? Who wants one of those? Wii? I don't need that. Nintendo DS? What’s the point? iPod Touch? Mobile phone? Car? Money? Music? Films? Laptop? I don't want any of this stuff, it's all so boring, and pointless to me now. All the things that once held such significance in my life all are nothing but dust collectors. Anything that was ever important is now not even as much as a blip on my radar of things I could not live without. Music is bland; films leave a bad taste in my mouth. I would give a hundred million pairs of shoes for one more day with him.

I could happily give everything I ever loved and cherished for him, no matter how much he has hurt me by leaving, I would have him over anything else. I'm so angry, and filled with hate. My hate for him is what fuels me, what makes me feel better about his leaving. My white-hot anger and my bitter pain is all I have to hold onto and perhaps I shouldn't bathe in it, but if I didn't what would I do, cry all the time? Yes, I probably would, and the worst part? Despite all this I want him to cuddle me at night, I want it to be him that I fall asleep next to and wake up with, I want to make him dinner, and make him coffee, I want to hold his hand and watch him play computer games. All the things I despised about him, his hairy nipples, his cold feet, the way he took up the entire bed, how he spent more time talking to his arsehole of a brother than speaking to me, even though he lived with me, how I was always the one to cook dinner and how he used to let his beard grow out, even though he knew it irritated my sensitive skin, all those horrible things that I cursed when he was here, I would welcome back with open arms if it meant I could have him.

Sure, day by day the pain lessens, the hurt dulls, the love grows distant, but that doesn't stop the raging hole in my chest that screams at me every morning, afternoon, evening and night, "Something’s missing!" and it is, he is missing and as a result a part of me has disappeared with him into oblivion. What's worse? That he left, or that one day I won’t remember his face, or his voice, perhaps one day I'll forget his favourite food, or how he has his coffee? It's been a little over a month and I've already forgotten his middle name, was it Lee, Jacob, James, Philip, John? Will the day come that I will pass him on the street and not even know who he is?
I think no one realises he was my everything, the thing that kept me sane. Everyone has their thing, it might be a best friend, a child, a parent, their job, money, sex, a pet, a husband, a wife, a combination of some or all, well he was my thing, the thing that made life a little more worthwhile. It made missing the bus not seem so bad, it made the rain pleasant and it made the tears I cried over silly things go away. It caught all the spiders and it changed the light bulb, it encouraged me and listened to me natter on late into the night about stupid, meaningless, jibber jabber. Had I of known we didn't have much longer together I wouldn't have filled our nights with such pointless conversation, I would have spoken about all the important things, but, what are the important things? I no longer know, I've lost grip on reality which keeps spinning around me, reeling out and spinning webs that don't involve me and him being together, but rather me being alone.