And it’s not like you are not here. I know I am gonna see you almost all the time. You are here but you are not here. The hardest thing about losing you is that it just didn't happen once. I lose you every single minute we don't speak. When today, I woke up in the morning and reached for my phone and hoped to see a message that isn't there, and today when I will go to sleep at night after I realize that the only person I want to moan about how crap my day was, isn't gonna be there like before. All this time we talk, but we don’t talk. And I lose you in all of the moments in between, in all the hours of silence that goes by where I do nothing but think of you, go to call you, text you and then I don't. I lose you when I think of you, listen to certain songs, and was planning to go to certain places that are all tainted by certain parts of you and how you make me feel. And I thought, I used to think I could only miss you when I was alone, but that's not true. I miss you when I am around everyone else, too. Because they are not you. But you are there, at least most of the times. And I miss you when you are here too because even you are not you. And then I cling to those words. How I am losing my place. How I have lost it. How all those things in me that you once praised now seem opposite to you. And yet, I can't not think about you. It’s only when I am asleep that I get a break from it. From thinking and wanting and missing. But then I know I am gonna wake up the following day, roll over, check my phone, see that you didn't call, text, and I just know that I'm just going to feel it all over again.