the flowers; h.s.

day one hundred and ten

Missing him had just become an ache that I was used to having. It was my cross to bear, and I grew so incredibly used to it that it didn't hurt as much as it used to. He was always with me, no matter what I did, and it had become second nature to me to have that hollow feeling in my chest.

I was happier now. I kept telling myself that, but, in some ways, it was true. I fully understood myself finally and that was good. But he wasn't there with me and that hurt.

I was no longer overcome with grief and longing for him. I just missed him. Such an innocent act.

I had seen him around a couple of times but had never uttered a word to him. We just pass each other with polite smiles as if we were just casual acquaintances. It was almost like we had never met and fallen in love, like he hadn't come back the day that we met and struck up a conversation with me. Like the only thing that I would know him by is 'that guy that I sold gum to that one time'.

It was sad, but very much needed. Because I had finally gotten over him and the grief that he caused me and allowed myself some time alone. All I wanted to do was to finally get some peace and I successfully did just that.

It was an amazing feeling, I have to say, to be completely comfortable with who you are and know exactly what you want. And I do know exactly what I want. Happiness.