11:59.

So, at the time of writing this, one week ago, pretty much to the exact minute, I got the text. And while that moment was terrible and it changed everything about everything, what came after has been far worse. It has officially been one week since I have talked to you, laughed with you, cried with you, kissed you, held you, played with your hair, watched your eyes light up when you smile, or watch you fall apart at my touch.

I'm not going to lie, I didn't think I'd survive this week...

I'm being dramatic. No. I'm not suicidal... my therapist checks every time we talk. But I do feel empty, because as much as I want to see you, and hear you, and hold you, and taste you, and text you, and play with your hair, and, and, and...

Above all... I just miss my friend.

When I moved all of the old posts to this new format, I read them all again. They were emotions put to words, to say the least. It was a wild roller coaster.

"I've got this."

"I absolutely don't got this."

"If you wanted me you would."

"I totally know why you're doing this. You warned me!"

And so where does it leave me now? I told myself I would write you for one week. Then the posts would stop being heartbroken letters to the love of my life, and turn back into the therapy. But today, a week after I saw you last, I don't want to stop. Because writing you makes me feel like I still have my friend. And feeling like I still have my friend, means I don't have to say goodbye... yet.

I will tell you, I sit here utterly confused one week later. Why didn't I stop on the way home? Why didn't I hold your hand? Why didn't we talk about what we should expect? I start feeling really guilty that we didn't take those last moments to say what we had to say. To reassure each other. To hug one last time. I was driving. I could have stopped. But then I remember that you could have stopped me too. You could have asked me to pull over. You could have said "don't leave yet, we need to talk." And we could have given "us" a proper goodbye.

But then you disappeared. I almost texted you 30 times that night after dropping you off at your house. But I knew you were about to do one of the hardest things of your life, and I didn't want to bug you. I also didn't want Kyle to be mad that I was texting... who was I going to say I was texting at 2:00 am?

What I didn't expect was to wake up to your e-mail that next morning that didn't hold anything authentic. Because if that was authentic... then the Tracy I knew never existed. So I have to believe it was inauthentic. I think it's the ambiguity that is eating at me. It plants seeds of doubt that produce these weeds in my mind. I keep doing the work, digging them up and throwing them in the trash. But they always return. Sometimes it's a day. Sometimes it's an hour. Sometimes it's only a few minutes. I'm getting tired, babe. I'm getting tired of reminding myself that you promised you'd love me, even if you couldn't say it.... of reminding myself that you said you'd come back for me...

I also didn't expect that you'd go this dark... and maybe that's all my fault. While you said this might happen and you told me exactly what to believe was true during your silence, I thought our love had grown enough that you wouldn't be able to survive the silence. I figured you'd find some way to reach me. That maybe I'd find a random tube of chapstick on my windshield wiper... your small sign that you're still here. Or maybe I'd get lucky enough for another one of your letters. Wishful thinking I guess...

Even tonight, Kyle and Anderson are camping 3 hours away, and Mollie is sleeping over at her friend's house. I'm alone at home. And I fantasize that my phone will buzz in the middle of the night... and it'll be you. And I'll find you on my front doorstep. Just like that story. It won't happen. I know that. But it sits rent free in my mind.

I'm sorry that I seemingly went off the deep end this week trying to contact you. You were very thorough in blocking me and avoiding me at all costs. I saw you were at Casa Chapala on Thursday. I saw it Thursday evening, actually. And that just about killed me. You were so close. And I pictured you in your element, standing up there and presenting to them. Then of course, shaking people's hands and smiling, thanking them for having you, etc. And then I got sad. You were close. So close. And I was one block away, struggling at my desk, while you were shaking hands and kissing babies with a smile on your face. I know it very well might have just been an act. But it still hurt.

Another thing I'm struggling with is that we are also only four days away from the two-month mark. Four. Days. I wanted to say something on our one-month, but I felt SO much like a middle schooler, that I chickened out. "There will be other's." I told myself. But there never would be, would there? If I had only known I would have sent flowers to your work. But not roses, you hate roses. I would have taken you out to dinner. I would have held you and thanked you for the night you told me you were in love with me.

You know I had just purchased some disposable tooth brushes to keep in my car for you, in case you ever needed it? I don't know what to do with them now.

I don't know how to feel right now. Not hearing from you has left a hole in my heart bigger than I can ever describe. The questions it has left me with, scare me. Were you just getting it out of your system with me? Did you see me as an easy target who was probably unhappy enough in her marriage to explore this with you? Did you really even love me? Were the things you said to me true?

But every time I go down this road, there's something in my heart that stops me. Because I know it was true. And maybe that makes me naive... I don't know. What I do know, though, is this...

For me? It was all true.

All of it. Every minute.

For me? You were it.

I had found my person. I was ready to re-write what my future looks like. To redefine myself. You so, so, so, so, easily proclaimed "I am a lesbian." I wanted you to end that sentence with "and this is my wife!" as you took my hand in yours.

I firmly believe that the guys would have forgiven us. The kids would have, too. And we would have gotten through the suck and found our heaven.

But until you contact me, I'm left wondering if it was real for you. I'm left digging up the weeds, throwing them away, and waiting while they regrow. I will hold onto hope by remembering our moments, and how those moments made this so real for me... so they must have been for you, too. And one day... when you're ready to tell the world you're gay, when you're ready to come back to me... I truly hope you will. I hope you show up at my doorstep with that ring you said you'd bring.

It's 11:59 as I type this... the exact minute you got out of my car. And then you were gone.

My love... I'm going to miss you forever. I will miss my friend. I will miss us... the beautiful "us" that existed and made the world so much brighter. If you've got it in your heart, whether you love me, or you don't... please find a way to tell me. Tell me it was real and now it's done. Or it was real, and you're not sure what's going to happen next. Tell me anything. Even if it's just to tell me to back off.

Until that day, I am here. Missing. Healing. Loving. Forever.

~Stef