Why

I told him.

I never rarely regret anything I do. If I feel like something should be done or said, I will usually do or say it. So without regret, I told Bam how I was feeling.

I didn't actually set out to. I had been "pining" for him a long time. Nothing was making the ache go away. So I started writing it down. My thoughts. Letters that I never intended to send. I was hoping if I got it out I could start to heal.

But then I thought if I don't tell him how I feel and there was still a chance I WILL regret that!

Knowing I probably wouldn't be received with open arms, I sent a large envelope containing all the letters I'd written to that point. I did not hold anything back. I told him I loved him and that I never stopped. That I hoped he was finding happiness and I never wanted anything else for him. I put it out there that even if there is no chance of getting back together I still want to be friends. That I miss him.

While I waited I kept writing to him. In a black hard covered book, never meant to be sent. If he re-appeared I would give it to him, but not until then. I cried... A LOT. I hypothetically kicked myself in the ass and him in the balls, for fucking it all up.

There was nothing. Not a word back. Well I put it out there. Does that make it stop hurting? No. But at least I don't have regret on top of that pain.

On the last page of my little book I wrote that I was putting it away. That I wouldn't try to contact him again. I would use the book to look back and remember the pain that I went through and try to use it to avoid future situations. And then I tucked the book away and left it alone.

So why...? Why can't I stop. Bam sneaks into my thoughts everyday. Some days are worse than others. Most days I'll hear or see something that reminds me of him and I'll smile.

Other days EVERYTHING slams me in the gut and I just can't escape. Every song on the radio, going to Wendy's, driving past the skate park. Hell just being at the beach, where I work, can bring it on. Someone mentions The Walking Dead, I think about Bam. Brushing my teeth, because he was such a nazi about his clean teeth. Someone farting, because he did it frequently and thought it was funny.  And sometimes it's days at a time, or a week.

It's particularly bad when the girls aren't home and I'm left alone. Last night I watched the latest episode of True Blood. Sookie had wrapped herself in her dead boyfriends jacket just to feel his arms around her again. She then decides to sleep in it. I can relate to that. Some days I sleep in Bam's hoodie. Don't ask me why. Because it was his favorite? Because he gave it to me? It's irrational, but I do it anyway.

And it's been this way for 8 months. At what point should I consider seeking professional help? Is this what love is and I just didn't know it? Are broken hearts supposed to be broken this long? Or am I going mental?

Stay tuned... Tomorrow I'm gonna tell you about his New Girlfriend texting me.