I hate how you tell me not to cry. Crying makes me feel better. It really does. That's what it's supposed to do. I miss you so much. I feel like I gave up the last few remnants of my life with you, and I hate it.

Every time I think of you, I wish that you think of me too. I wish you would have learned that it's okay to be sad, and it's okay to be like this. Because it is. This isn't one of those things that you can just completely erase and forget that it ever happened. I think that's the key to getting over it and to being strong. You have to face your fears and your problems for them to really go away.

Today my shrink was telling me this analogy, comparing these "fears" (is what we'll call them) to getting a splinter. If you have a splinter in your hand, and you leave it in because you know it will hurt too much to take it out, and then it gets infected and doesn't heal very fast. But if you take it out, yes, it hurts a lot at first, there is a lot of pain. But it heals faster. I try so hard every day, but I feel like because you keep running away from it, I can't. You are my other half, and what you do, what you think, I feel it. I don't think I've studied someone so hard in my life, and tried to get them to know me back. I always think that if you would have waited, it would get better. Because I felt the same way you felt, numerous times when things got rough. But I knew I couldn't give up. I couldn't give up one you, on me, on us. I never will. And if you asked me to fall in love with you again, I would. But I know right now that you won't. And you will try to deny everything I've written. But maybe one day you will realize that we are two halves that form one. Why would something that feels so right, that is so right, be wrong? It was real, what we had. I hope that one day you realize it, but I know that right now, you don't. And I feel sorry for you.

Sorry to break it to you, but love isn't glamorous. It isn't 100% problem free. That just isn't possible.