I went back and forth on whether or not to write this down. I was leaning towards no because I didn’t see any point in it. I didn’t think it would make me feel better, so why bother. I don’t know. I guess because I have no where else to go with this. It’s been three weeks at this point. From the point where I said I’d give up. From the point when I said I’d give her space. At this point it just kind of tracks the time on its own. I thought about calling her yesterday. I flipped a coin because of my indecisiveness. It landed on heads so I said I’d call her today. I gave one text and then one call. Silence as usual. It brought me back to feeling worthless again. It brought me back to the headspace of worrying and hoping and begging. It just hurt again. The funny thing is I didn’t want to call. I wanted to just keep going and stop thinking about it. It just made me think I was going to hurt again. And I was right. I’m starting to forget what it felt like to talk to her. That warm happy feeling it gave me. It’s starting to dull a bit. What it felt like to feel like she cared. All I can remember now is the constant anxiety and feeling of dread when we weren’t talking. That’s the only thing that seems clear. That’s what I was afraid of. Forgetting the happy parts of it. That’s one of the parts that hurts the most. Just the forgetting parts. It feels like torture. I just wish it would end. I just wanted a goodbye.