Okay.

They say time heals, but the time I spent with you killed me more than anything.

If time really healed, I wouldn't be gasping for air between sobs every time your face came across my mind or spending my days wishing you still loved me.

I want to be okay, but every damn thing makes me think of you. I'm just still so confused as to why we're here. What did I do? Or was it what I didn't do?

Regardless, you don't want me anymore, and I need to be okay with that. Maybe I will be one day. For now, it just hurts that the freedom you gave me is going to waste, because the amount of guys I talk to in order to forget you keeps going up, but the only one I want to be with at the end of the day is your dumb ass. And I keep hoping for that message that you'll do anything to have me back, but every morning that I wake up with no message kills me a little more than the morning before.

Everyone says it's going to take time and that I'll be okay, and I always want to tell them that a piece of me disintegrated that night and that I'll be missing that piece of me for the rest of my life, but I always smile and nod.

Time doesn't heal. It kills me every waking moment to know that you're living life without me and I'm here in pain every second that you're okay.

Time doesn't heal because time can't stitch together a torn heart.

Only you can. And you don't want to.