Entry No. 4

Cold Air

The clock reads 2:27. The moon shines brightly through my open window, a cool breeze chills me to the bone, but I don’t close it. Cold air makes me feel alive. Cold air… cold air is the only presence in my lonely bed.

Nightmares must have woken me up again. They may have been filled with monsters, but more likely they were filled with him. He’s been gone for 3 months, but I still hope he’ll come back. Maybe that’s why I left the window open. Maybe I wanted him to climb through it like he used to. Or maybe I just wanted cold air.

How is it possible that his side of the bed still has a slight indent? Shouldn’t that have gone away soon after he left? I’m almost grateful for it. Anything that was left of him was appreciated. Like the shirt he left under my bed and the movies he’d kept on the coffee table.

The worst day since he left must have been the day I stopped noticing his scent. It was gone from the pillows on the bed and the shirt that adorns my body. I had considered going out and buying his cologne, but some part of me knew that was ridiculous.

It was time to accept that he wasn’t coming back. Maybe right now, 2:34 a.m. would finally be the moment I could let him go. But I’m not sure how. How does someone just let go of the person they love? The best way to start would probably be to stop thinking about him.

...

Of course that didn’t work. Now the neon numbers say 2:36 a.m. Its 2:36 a.m. and I am still in love with him.

I know that I’ll still love him at 2:37 a.m.

And 2:38 a.m.

And probably at 2:39 a.m. every day for the foreseeable future.

The only thought that gives me any kind of comfort is maybe, just maybe he is lying awake thinking about me too.