they say it fades if you let it.

months ago when it began to end i looked at him and told him that i could feel that things were somehow changing. there were times where he would say "i love you" and the words failed to bring light to his eyes. i told him this. i told him we were hardly ever intimate anymore, and i wondered if it was something i had done wrong. i knew it was difficult for two people to exist in a tiny apartment together, but i somehow found charm in the idea that he was so near. i loved his presence. i loved the love he made, the breakfast in the morning, the movies at night, dancing together to songs we made up on the spot, falling asleep together, waking up together. our relationship had aged, but i never felt we had grown old. it was beautiful and true.

i saw the light fading. there were times when i could see boredom in his eyes. months ago when those vacant looks were small and rare, they were still visible to me. i told him this.

there were no problems. i was simply searching for confronatation, or saying things only so i could be reassured even though i knew his love for me had never changed. he told me this.

i had always fought for change. i wanted our excitement to return. i wanted his eyes to leave the television when i would come home so he could greet me. i wanted him to desire me again. i wanted his heart to beat quickly, i wanted him to have butterflies when i was close. i had these feelings for him.

months ago i knew what i had seen. i warned him to be aware of his emotions and not discard them, or starve them. i warned him if he didn't do that, we would die.

i had never felt we were so different until the past few months. maybe we had been all along, and i was just too smitten to realize, but somehow i don't believe that at all. it took 889 days for our differences to be seen. i spent 889 days with him. i've loved him for 892 days. i've woken up next to him nearly a thousand times. i've woken up with a sinking feeling for weeks.

i always thought we would spend our lives together. i secretly believed that he would be the father of my children. i believed we would travel together. i believed we would one day buy a home. i believed that there could be no one else out there for me. i believed he would always be mine. i believed we would never die. but he let us die.

you let us die.

i fought for us. i tried to fix us. i cried for us. i always took care of you. i've always loved you. i've always desired you. i told you we were dying and i knew how to stop it but i couldn't do alone. you never stopped it. you let us die. it's only been 3 days and i've cried in the shower, while driving, while falling asleep. i don't know if you've cried at all. i know when i see you my heart breaks. i feel like i'm seeing your ghost and i can't stand it. i can't stand to sleep without you but having you in my bed ruins me.

i'm ruined. i don't know how i'll make it through tomorrow. i'm unsure of how i'll even make it through the next three hours of today. i cannot look ahead and see my future anymore. everything i envisioned is gone. i thought if my heart had time to prepare i wouldn't feel so badly but every day so far has been harder than the previous day.

simple tasks have already become more difficult, and without realizing my appetite has already begun to fail me at times. anything that has brought me light is now feeding me darkness and i'm scared because it follows me even when i laugh or smile or drive or eat or breathe.

so in case you've wondered why i've been absent from my blog, at times it was because words had failed me when i had doubts, and when i had hope for him and i had no intention of writing at all about happiness that was never guaranteed to last.