This was my first complete weekend alone, with no contact whatsoever. No phone calls, texts, snaps, random appearances, or e-mails. It was weird. Lonely. Sad. I drove to his old house, where he lived when we first starting dating and things were good between us. When we had longer stretches of peace. When our plans had a real and reliable future. I keep trying to piece together the puzzle of what happened and I have no answers and it kills me.

I recall being so excited to pull into that driveway to see him. I remember all the breakfasts. I remember his family and feeling so welcomed and such warmth. I remember our fancy first Valentine's Day. I remember our first anniversary.  In our second year, we didn't really celebrate those because we were fighting. It started feeling ridiculous and false to celebrate a 2nd year anniversary when we had broken up so many times.

I still have his toothbrush in the stand, like it's waiting for him to return. And I kinda want to start using it? I know that's weird. It's like a tiny part of him that I can still have and keep to myself. I don't know what I'm saying.