The fear of losing him was amazing. I wanted him to be there and when he was I felt loved. I felt protected. I felt cared about.
When he was gone I had a terrible feeling of pain and sorrow. That maybe he stopped caring about me. Maybe he wants nothing to do with me.
Everytime I would hear a story about our past or even think about him, I became depressed and then afraid.
To move on was like killing a part of me. But I knew I must. And I will.