A Year of Waiting

A year ago, I slept like a baby. I even had a habit of falling asleep while we were talking on the phone, for which I am sorry, but it’s just that the sound of your voice comforts me. Knowing you were always there for me, knowing that you’d still love me when I wake up, comforted me and gave me peace of mind.

But you had to leave me because, as you said, love can’t put food in our stomachs. You said you weren’t leaving me, and you weren’t, at least not in the strictest sense of the word “leaving” in the context of relationships. All the same, you left me. You’re no longer by my side; I cannot touch you, I cannot embrace you, I cannot kiss you. I cannot even see you.

Since the day you left, I could not sleep at night. It was as if you took with you a significant part of myself. To this day, sleep is always shallow; I have to rely on chemical aids to sleep a dreamless and peaceful sleep. The girl who once slept like a baby became you; restless, kept awake at night by thoughts, doubts, dreams, hopes she wishes she could easily dispel.

A year has passed. A year of waiting. A year of tossing and turning in bed at night. A year of tears. A year of wishing that when I open my eyes in the morning, you would be there. Alas, it could not be so.

One more year.

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