Tired. I am just so tired. So tired of this empty existence without him. Every day it feels as if a deep darkness is embedded within me, slowly eating me from the inside out, until I am nothing but a hollow shell. Greenish purple bags seem to be a constant feature on my face from the many sleepless nights' thoughts of him seem to occupy. I almost appreciate the nightmares that come to me in the late hours of the night, because they make me feel something. They show me that I am alive, even when it feels like I am not. They give me a little piece of normality. In the depths of my despair, I have learned to grasp onto this idea of normal. I tighten my grip with hope that one day normal will be a reality. My hold never loosens, always wishing to never have been the girl that lost everything when she lost him. I've learned to ignore the whispers that follow me wherever I go. But they are getting harder and harder to ignore. The words they say stick to me like sticky notes to paper, and only then at the end of the day, after I am done pretending to be okay, do I finally peel them off and try to understand the meaning behind each saying. Everything they say helps the dark pit of self-loathing grow larger and larger. My sleepless nights continue again and again until morning comes when I take the sticky notes that haunt my dreams and put them into a dark box in the back of my mind, only to be opened again when night falls. You are the reason a voice in my mind whispers. The reason that he's gone. The voice repeats this saying over and over until I feel like my mind is on the edge of a cliff ready to jump and fall into the deep dark abyss of insanity. One day I know something inside of me will snap, but until that day I will keep hold of my hope for a normal life.