As I lay here wondering what tomorrow is going to bring, I catch myself thinking about him again. The “him” that helped me through anything and everything, the “him” that I thought I was in love with. I often wonder if maybe I was in love with the idea of him. It’s been almost four months without him and I still feel the same as I did when things ended. Empty. I question my ability to trust people because of my past mistakes with past people. One person can ruin things with other people you encounter. Things shouldn’t be this way. I get attached. People always leave and I didn’t think he would be one of them. I’m afraid of being alone. I’m afriad that when I am alone, my thoughts can destroy me. I am not a bright person, I try to keep to myself. I often try to seem outgoing, and seem like I have no care in the world. But in reality, I’m quite the opposite. I don’t show this side. I wonder what genuine happiness feels like, because I can’t remember the last time I did feel it, or if I ever did. I feel my family crumble around me, I feel people being affected by my actions, and in the moment I don’t really care, selfish right? But as time goes on I realize I do. But the damage is done. I wish my family was whole again, I wish my life was whole again, and then maybe I can experience this genuine happiness. Man do I need to know what it feels like. I worry about my future, I worry about things that I shouldn’t worry about, but I do, and I can’t help it. When I’m alone my thoughts are the things that kill me the most. And for that, I am terrified.