Not to sound incredibly juvenile, but I am exhibiting the common signs of grieving. I sleep as often as I can, and eat too much or not at all.

... And yet his redolent fragrance still lingers.

Perhaps it hasn't been that long ago, but it feels like ages since I sat back and watched the night sky.

I confess to not being myself lately.

How selfish and wrong is it to feel heart-broken when the other just manages to change completely without you?

In my attempts to shove goal after goal into my future, I take the occasional side-glance at my present. I see the smiles I'm missing out on, the laughs I suppress, the tears I hold back, the charged words of anger I replay over and over in my mind. For a split second or two, yes, I feel that slight tinge of remorse. I let go ever-so-slightly to the reigns of my diligence. The corners of my mouth begin to twitch upward in anticipation for the joy that will follow. And then I look again at the failing future. My heart hardens and my passion cools.

*This is overly exaggerated, mind you. Those who know me understand that I laugh and smile every chance I get...

**That previous sentence is also an exaggeration. The truth, I suppose, is in the middle somewhere, just waiting for the invention of words that will someday capture it.