The stuff of books and songs and movies are real--heartache really does feel like your heart is being wrung out by the disbelief that he's not in your life anymore. Every time realization hits, I get the wind knocked out of me, and there I am, crying again. But it's not a cry that is cathartic anymore. Instead, it feels tedious like folding laundry or watering the plants; it's just something that has to get done. I'm exhausted, even irritated with myself. The incessant self-loathing, the steady grieving, the never-ending questions circle around me, and I'm dizzy trying to keep up with all of these thoughts.

I know that this isn't what I wanted; I know that I cry because of the frustratingly silent separation. But I'm here. And slowly, I'm making do. Slowly. Today, I surprised myself with how loudly I laughed at someone's jokes, how easy it was for me to genuinely smile at the woman at the checkout stand.

This limbo is not what I wanted. But I am here. What else can I do but live my life?