Every time I pick up to write, I stumble.
I can’t form the thoughts into words.
I can’t form the words into sentences.
I’ve been trying paper and pen. I keep thinking that maybe a different medium will work better than another.
The truth is, sometimes, it just hurts too much to write. Sometimes, it hurts just breathing.
I want to call you. I want to see you. I want to hear you.
Most of all, I want to write you. I want to write you and I want you to answer me. I want you to tell me what you think. I want you to tell me how much you love me too. I want so many things I can’t have anymore.
That is the hardest part: the void.
The nothingness that is now in the spot where you used to be.