Everybody Hurts

I’m yet to discover something more painful than losing the person you thought you’d never lose. You don’t see it coming. Things begin to change, but you don’t acknowledge it. You refuse. Because this person will never leave, they can’t. You can’t let them go.
But then it happens. The big fight. The argument that leads to you saying the words you thought you’d never say.
“I can’t do this anymore”.
And then it all crumbles, like a wave crashing over a child’s carefully crafted sandcastle. You try to pick up the pieces, but you can’t. You’re forced to give each other space, a lot of it. You’re forced to let go for an indefinite amount of time. And that’s what kills you. You don’t know whether or not they’ll come back. You don’t know whether you can fill in the cracks to keep your friendship from falling apart. You don’t know whether space will work, you don’t know if you’ll ever hug them again, or if you’ll ever even speak.
It’s the not knowing that kills you. Because, really, you can’t lose him. You know you can’t, you can’t and you won’t. But what’s done is done, and now all you can do is cry over what you didn’t do, and what you didn’t say. You just let someone incredible slip away, once again. But maybe that’s the wake-up call you needed.
It isn’t all about saving face. It’s better to throw away your pride, than to throw away something incredible, that you’re going to fucking miss like hell.