I take the trash out more often than I need too. In hopes I see you parked in “your spot”. I go out front more to see you drive by. But you don’t. Or if you do, I don’t see you. I miss the small things. I’m sorry I’m still stuck on you. But I want to cry. I feel like I can “maybe” grieve the separation between you and I. But when It’s about to happen, I hold my tears back. It’s HARD, but I can’t let you take another thing, another tear for you. You don’t want me, and you made it clear. So why am I still thinking about you? I don’t hate you. I don’t hate me either.