I've always been afraid. Afraid of heights, afraid of love, afraid of bugs and creepy crawlies, afraid to be alone and worst of all, afraid to let go and be hit with the full realisation of what life alone means, entails, even though I've already spent more time single than being with him.

Hi, I get scared easily.

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I watched from afar today as he made his way down the stairs - but wait! That wasn't him. I had recognised the wrong person. I didn't know him anymore. It was over. O-V-E-R. The final shovel full of dirt over a decomposing coffin. When will the grass and flowers start growing again?

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I finally cleared my desk of all mementos, had a memorial service where I relived it all again and watched it fade again. I never removed them because I was caught in a limbo, not strong enough to remove them and make a formal declaration of IT'S OVER yet not delusional enough to believe that he'd ever come back. The absolute worst position to be in really.

Do I still love? Yes, maybe, perhaps, but I will let it die.

This may have been Elliot's birthday today, but hopefully it will be mine too.