Written June 26, 1:56 a.m.

I was stuck at my friend's without a computer, so I wrote this out the old fashioned way... Here it is, for your reading (dis)pleasure.

This is the part where the cool exterior starts to break down... Because when I lay down to sleep I text him to tell him goodnight, and I love him.

But I'm not supposed to do that now. I sent my final messages, "I just wanted to let you know this is probably the last time you'll hear from me for awhile. I'm gonna take some time to figure out how to be okay with this. Goodnight, and I really do hope you're okay with this." And I leave unspoken the, "I love yous," and the "please don't go, I'm not ready for it to be overs."

His reply? "Goodnight. All the best of luck. I hope you can be happy." The first time he's ever texted with proper capitalization and punctuation. I don't feel anything unspoken here: he is formal and cold.

The whole time, I told him it was okay. I want him to be okay, but I wish he would have cried while he did it... I cried when I broke up with him, but both times, I did it with the knowledge that I'd see him, hold him, kiss him, and love him (still) again. This time is final: he doesn't want me.

Stupid things bother me. I liked the way his toothbrush looked standing next to mine. I liked keeping his soap in my shower for when he visited. I kept clean socks in my drawer for him.

He is six years of my past, and what I expected to be the rest of my future. He was supposed to be my family. For the first time in my life, I was seriously thinking of marriage. I was so sure.

Though part of me doubted, I was determined to make it work. And even if we did break up, I did not expect it to be so soon. I honestly, deep down, didn't think he would leave me.

I'm terrified to be alone, but even more afraid to have to find someone new. I've never actually been on a real date... Jess and I were always just together. It felt odd, and still right, to have just written his name. It made me realize I'd been avoiding writing it.

On one hand, I'm ready to be done crying. On the other, I want to keep crying: ten oceans of tears to drown my stupid, melodramatic feelings and sentences.

Worst of all? I feel like he chose drugs and alcohol over me. I thought I was more important to him than that. Six years, my first real boyfriend, and so many other firsts are supposed to just disappear? How do you stop looking to the person who's always supposed to be there?