I wonder if interests come back, in time, when grief removes them from your life. I haven't really listened to music in over a month. I try every once in a while, but most of my playlist reminds me of him and I just can't do it. The headphones come off almost as soon as they go on. I sing to Punks and Bubs at bedtime, but other than that I feel my voice has been silenced. I've always loved to sing, but it's become something painful for me now. Where I used to turn the game music off so that I could listen to my own music and sing along, I now just leave it on because it's something to fill the silence, something that I never listened to when I was with him, something untainted. I feel that's how I look at a lot of things in my life now - touched by him, and not. It's so much easier to do the things that I never did when he was around. Even FFXIV is touchy - too many associations with him. I get on to do specific things with friends and then I log off again. That entire game is just one big reminder of what I lost, especially since that's where I found him.

Interestingly enough, I can play ShellShock and I'm fine, probably because we never played it together. He never once asked me to join him when he was playing so my experience in the game has been all my own. I'm learning for myself and by myself, and when I step out of my comfort zone next month, move from singleplayer to multiplayer in order to play with A. and his family, I'll have my own group and team that has never been his.

And that's a small victory but I'll take it, because escaping him in my day-to-day has been incredibly hard. I'm caught between wanting to remove all reminder of him from my life and wanting to cling to the little bits that I have left. I've removed his photos from my phone, but I still have his photo on my nightstand. Sometimes I cover it, because looking at it is so painful, but I can't bring myself to get rid of it completely. I'm not sure what my heart is waiting for, but I trust my instincts enough to know that I'm not ready for that step yet. I kept the jewellery that he gave me too, despite being told to throw it in the lake - it's sitting in my jewellery box instead. I wonder what he's done with the things I gave him. The art supplies, the otter keychain (that my daughter wanted and that I should have, in retrospect, given her), the fox stuffie... The fox stuffie especially. I had that custom made for him from a pattern that I chose. I wanted him to have something sweet and unique and meaningful from me. A part of me hopes he kept it. A larger part of me is sure that a dump is cuddling it now. And that makes me indescribably sad.

I miss him, and I wish that things had been different. I wish that he'd loved me enough to stick with me. I wish that I understood what I did that was so horrible that he couldn't. I wish that he'd been able to see Montreal, and that we'd been able to practice his French like we had planned. I wish that he'd been able to give that ferret stuffie to my daughter. I wish that I didn't have to deflect every time she asks about him. I wish that we still had a future to plan, and trips to take. I wish so many things, and all it brings me is tears. And sometimes, I wish that I could just lose all recollection of meeting and loving him, because that would be so much easier than this hell.

In another life
I would be your girl
We'd keep all our promises
Be us against the world

In another life
I would make you stay
So I don't have to say
You were the one that got away
The one that got away

And yes, that's from a Katy Perry song. It's stuck in my head... Probably because it encapsulates how and what I'm feeling. And what I know he isn't. And on that note - I think I've cried enough for tonight. I need sleep and darkness and nothingness. Good night.