As promising and sweet as my love life was, it ended before it could even reach its climax! The hardest part of losing him was it was not the first. I have lost him over a thousand times before.

I would lose him each day he did not call. When I woke up in the early morn and reach out for my phone hoping to see a message or a missed call from him yet there wasn’t any, I would miss him.

Before I laid myself to sleep at night, I would look at my phone hoping he’d call because he was the only one I wanted to talk to about the crappiest stuff of my day. There was none.

When I dined out with my loud cheerful family, I missed him. The gayest friends I have cheered me with not so wild nocturnal fun but I still missed him. I would terribly miss him because they are not him.

In times when I was alone, doing my groceries or dipping in the tub, I would miss him. I lost him when I heard certain songs playing on my iPod. I lost him when I saw some cheesy parts of a movie. It was unthinkable not think of him. I was losing him everywhere I looked and went.

There were times when I would lose him while we were actually talking. I lost him when he paused to call his brothers or some friends. I lost him when he played his XBox or some of those dang crap apps while I was telling him about my white snubbish boss complimenting my creativity. I lost him when he just disappeared while we were still on the phone.

I used to pray for a longer good night rest so I could take a break from missing him, from thinking about him. I prayed hard that there would not be dreams of him. But when I woke up the next morn and checked my phone, I knew I was going to lose him all over again.

With a microscopic tinge of sanity and self-esteem left in my tiny train of thought, I decided to end the misery. I left him… and he didn’t even say goodbye.

He didn’t lose me. He just ignored me.

~RaineFairy #fiction

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