I didn’t think I would cry over him. I didn’t think my tears would fall across my face. Splatter and spread like my heart did. Not then, three weeks after the first time and not now, one month after breaking up. But I did cry, every singly night for the next four weeks.
It felt like I was giving up something that should be mine. Everything that would make me happy. Someone that was really half of who I was. I had dreams of him. Of conversations about our future. Of being so in tune. Him taking care of me for years to come.
To this day, long after the new one ghosted, I still dream of him.