I haven't posted anything to my blog in years.  I don't even know why I'm posting anything at all. 

The last year of my life has been a living nightmare, and even now, as I type this, it doesn't seem real.  I keep thinking that I'll wake up and everything will be normal, that I'll be in the kitchen of my old apartment and he'll come walking through the door, complaining about work and all the jerks he has to deal with on a daily basis.  But that won't happen.  I'll never stand in that kitchen again.  And he'll never come walking through that, or any door, again.

I'll never see his smile.  I'll never hear his laugh.  I'll never feel his arms around me, holding me tight.

The last year of my life has been a living nightmare. 

I'm not even done unpacking yet.  I don't know when I will finish, if I ever will.  There are boxes of things that I just can't bring myself to go through.  I know what's in them.  I don't want to have to look at the things that fill these boxes.  I don't want to cry.  I don't want to hurt.  I don't want to remember.  But I don't want to forget, either.  I never want to forget.

People say that things will get easier.  People say that they're here if you need them.  These are just things people say when they don't know what to say.  And they lie when they say these things.  Not on purpose, but it just happens.  People mean well, but they are so wrapped up in their own lives.  They can't even begin to understand what it's like.  There is no way to describe this hell.  There is nothing anyone can say that will help, or make things better or easier.  It's just the way it is.

People say that time will heal all wounds.  I don't believe them.  Nothing can heal these wounds, because no matter how many years go by, there will always be a hole.  There will always be something missing.  There will always be a void that even the most special memories will never be able to fill.

I'm absolutely broken.