As the rain falls on my window, I remember you used to pause the music to listen to that sweet lullaby of nature, when we couldn’t enjoy the view we had of the stars from under the window. Every time I hear that sound I am reminded of you. I remember how pleasant it was to be safe in your arms when nature was raging outside, I remember the heat, I remember your skin, I remember your perfume and I remember the softness of your hair.
It has been almost a year now, and still it feels that yesterday I could call you mine, even though you never were. The pain doesn’t fade, it doesn’t transform; it only lingers, ready to surface every time the faintest hint of you or my memories of you comes by. Not a day passes that I’m not reminded of what I lost, of the confidence I had at that time, when there was more to me than an empty shell, when I thought happiness was not a silly and unreachable dream.
I envy the ones who are not alone, who know they have a place to come to. They say home is where the heart is, and as I am now homeless, I long for this feeling of belonging I once had. I miss being able to forget all the petty problems and everyday issues, deep in your arms; I miss having someone to share my doubts and questions with, and I miss having someone to comfort, someone to take care of. They also say it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, but as I contemplate the string of miseries that has been my life for the past few months, I am not so sure; lucky the one who never tasted true happiness, for he will never know of the gaping hole in his chest, insidiously oozing its black, dour treacle in your every thought. It is hard to enjoy something with no one to share it with, and the bitter pang of knowing that even the best of things would have been better with you, how delusional and stupid that may sound, doesn’t help either.
I wish someone would heat back the pool of gloomy ice that has become of my heart, I wish someone would hug me, I miss human contact, I miss warmth, I miss being loved, I miss that feeling when I knew I would see you again soon, I miss trying to guess the clothes you would be wearing and looking for you in the crowd, hoping that you were there, waiting for me. I miss doing things to impress you, what made me feel like I had a purpose in this wide world, I miss waiting for you at the door, arms wide open, and thinking that stupid as it may have been it would make you smile, even just a little. I really miss the sound of your laugh, and the glorious feeling of being the one causing it.
As I watch you from a distance, I hope you are happy, and I hope the ones you love know how lucky they are to have you. I used to wake up every day feeling I was the luckiest guy in the world, and knowing that whatever would happen I would still have us. I used to have plans; I used to paint the future in bright colours. I also used to have something to say to you when we talked, or at least we could share the silence with no awkwardness. I hate myself for not being able to come speak to you even though I never missed you as bad as I do now, I hate not being even a friend and letting the little that was left of us die. I used to be strong but I feel the persona I thrive to maintain, that façade of everyday happiness is eating up the little that’s left of that strength, and my Jungian anima is being slowly erased. I miss you, but, selfishly, what I maybe miss most of all is the one I was then.
Ul levrig a vil pajennad 
Evezhiadennoù nevez