Dan left this afternoon, just after 3 pm. It’s been harder than I anticipated. I’m finding myself randomly bursting into tears while turning on the sconce light that Dan fixed, or walking the dog and coming into an empty apartment, cooking dinner and having a pot full of left overs and no one to say “This is really good, thanks honey,” in between mouth fulls. He missed a good dinner tonight, fresh marinara sauce.
I couldn’t quite put my finger on why it is so hard. We spent a year only seeing each other on weekends, and we were okay. I just want this so bad, and now that I’ve had a taste, it’s really hard to go back. The worst part, though, is just being alone. Far from my family, far from Dan, far from so many things I love.
I should try to sew, but everything just feels so much more difficult. I finished a pair of ruffled panties, and started a matching soft-bra. I need to finish a cup and just assemble it… instead I think I will soak in a bath and snuggle down with Oliver and Great Expectations for the night.
I don’t want to get into an empty bed.
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