<h4>I Lost Him</h4>

Nope. Nope. No. Over. Done. Ended. Finished.

Shit. Shit...

Shit.

Loving him a whole lot wasn't enough. It never is, is it?

The roller coaster of recovery is already in full swing. I veer between arm-stretching, hopeful freedom and breath-catching despair that blurs my vision.

I really, really, really loved him. I loved him in a way I hadn't loved anyone else. I adored him. I respected and admired him. I was his and only his.

Losing him, living the moment I had dreaded and hoped would never come--the moment when I understood I could no longer call upon him--that moment opened something in me. When the worst thing that can happen does indeed happen, well, there's a feeling of freedom with the pain. After all the snotty heaving and tears and pitiful, self-indulgent weeping, there's the relief that it's done. The worst that could happened already happened. Maybe I was trapped, too--trapped by my fear that he would leave me. Trapped by the fear of heartache.

He was so good to me. He made me laugh. He made me smile. I longed for him. I trusted him. I loved his lips and his eyes and his stomach and his arms and his legs and his sweaters and his watch and his cereal. I loved how he bought and kept things at his apartment just for me. I would see him and just want to take him into my arms and shove my face into his neck. I loved talking about him and thinking about him and being next to him and hearing him breathe and hearing him laugh and watching his face after he kissed me and reaching my fingers out to take his fingers and feeling his nails and my hand into the crook of his arm when we were walking around and feeling like I'd finally found someone I could be happy with for a long time. It was a good thing, what we had.

I hope that he gets better. I think he will. And I'm terrified, absolutely and utterly terrified to have to wait and hope for another man to come around who will be as sweet to me as he was. It's scary to be alone, isn't it? It's scary to love and lose and trust that you will love again.

But you know, coupled with the fear of the unknown is the excitement. The exhilaration.

So yes, moments of sort-of-happy excitement of potential and shiny newness... and moments of blinking and deep breathing and shaking my head side to side to keep from smushing my face in my hands and wailing, I miss him. Because I do. And I won't stop any time soon.