Day Seventy Five

There isn't a day when I don't miss you.
Grief is funny. It goes around in cycles. I remember when I didn't get into medicine. I cried the day results came out. And I thought I was starting to get over it when it hit me again, a few months later, that I did not get in. So I stayed unhappy for a few more days, cried for a few more days. And to this day, I am still bitter about it.

The same is happening now. I was starting to get better, starting the process of moving on. And now that he's actually physically in Christchurch, it's suddenly struck me that he will not be in Dunedin waiting for me like he has been the last two years. That he won't be outside my flat when I arrive. That he won't be outside that door, knocking. That there's a real possibility that I will not see him again for a very long time, or ever. Sure, he's made plans to come back in April and I plan to go to Christchurch some time. But one thing I learnt is that you can't make plans too ahead in the future because things change. What if the last time that I'll ever see him was the day that we said goodbye at the airport, right before I got on my plane?
But my worst fear is this: that like the medicine issue, I will never get over him. And there's no way to jump back on, like the medicine issue. There's no second chance, no post graduate entry for a relationship that ended because of the stance of two people on an issue that will remain unchanged for both parties.

Life is moving on for him. But life is just so stagnant, so numb and grey for me. It's like I'm just going through the motions and no matter what little encouragement I try to think up for myself, I always start and end the day the same way, wishing that there was a way out.