She left me on Saturday. I went to get a bowl of cereal just before talking, to eat a bit. How irrelevant, yet when I saw the dry, empty bowl after our chat, it was strange but I thought: that bowl, that expectation of just having a chat, that made no sense at all. Seeing that was almost like a form of sarcasm.

I didn’t know what to say. I still don’t know. I was wrong. I got on a cycle, a repetition of myself. Not interested in her, her history, her life. I was concentrated on myself, my own life, my own hardship. I didn’t see her. I was blinded by the everyday. I was frustrated and annoyed and bored with the everyday and forgot to see all the beauty we had together. Those moments of pure silence that were short manifestations of the eternal beauty we brought into this world. When we didn’t have to say anything, just hold one another. Those moments of being understood and cared for. I lost track of all of that and ended up being tired and lonely, afraid that I’m alone again. I was selfish. I’m sorry, A. I’m terribly sorry I let you hang there without me being around you. I’m sorry I didn’t think of you, dream of you, love you. I’m sorry.